A New Divide
by Mighty ANT
Summary: With the destruction of their base, Team Prime has scattered, leaving the Autobots to their own devices. While Optimus and Wheeljack search the stars for Autobot aid, the obscure island of Griffin Rock and its inhabitants come into play. Rescue Bots/Prime crossover. Post-"Darkest Hour" and spin-off 'The Strangest of Places'.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: For those of you not aware, this is a continuation off of a series of Transformers oneshots I've been writing called _The Strangest of Places_, a Prime/Rescue Bots crossover, but this story line would not leave me alone so I extended it into its own story. The first two chapters were already written, which is why I've posted them both at once.

This is AU post "Darkest Hour" and the season finale of Rescue Bots

Rated T for mild language and later violence

Please enjoy and leave a review!

Transformers Prime/Rescue Bots belong to Hasbro

* * *

It was early Sunday morning when Cody detected the Cybertronian life signal on the mainland.

Chase and Boulder had added the scanner to the command center's multitude of tech after their return from Moropolis, a case of paranoia in one and tactfully hidden caution in the other. Its sensory range extended all the way to the next state, including a wide sweep of the island and surrounding bodies of water. Its "official" purpose was to isolate Cybertronian life-signs just in case any other Autobots came near, happening to intercept Optimus Prime's message. But even Cody knew that it really acted as a countermeasure against Decepticon attack.

Cody was alone in the Command Center when the scanner chimed, and the boy had nearly leapt out of his seat at the unfamiliar sound. The Rescue Bots were down in the bunker, recharging or watching television, Kade and Graham were still asleep, Dani was in her pajamas and Charlie had yet to drink his morning coffee. None of them were prepared for the boy's panicked announcement at 0800 hours tearing all Sunday morning plans asunder.

His siblings scrambled to get into their vehicles, while Charlie dealt with his youngest who stubbornly refused to remain in the firehouse. Even with a few well-meaning warnings on part of the Autobots and a direct refusal from Kade, Cody remained resolved on the matter. It was only after some more pleading and his promise to run if the meeting went sour did Chase grudgingly unlock his passenger side door and Charlie allow him in.

The four robots left the firehouse in a flurry of tires and smoke, communicating via their comm as they reached the shoreline and drove straight into the ocean. Driving across the seabed would be faster than taking the ferry. Throughout the entire journey not a single soul could keep their thoughts surrounding the mysterious signal to themselves, so much that their comm was clogged with chatter.

"I wonder if it'll be another warrior to join Optimus' team!" Blades opined brightly. No one commented on the fact that the Prime's weekly check-ins had stopped for some time now.

"Or a scientist," Graham said, with encouragement from Boulder.

"Does it matter?" Kade demanded sourly as Heatwave drove past coral reefs and schools of fish.

"Whoever it is they had better adhere to standard Earth law and police protocol," Chase said huffily.

"Or maybe another flyer?" Dani pointed out hopefully, despite Blades' morose whimper.

Chief Burns cleared his throat to quiet the babble. "_Or_ this Cybertronian could be a hostile force." All rescue personnel were silent, and Charlie continued. "Now it's most likely not one of Optimus' teammates, seeing as how they usually contact us when one of them is in the area. So I want everyone on their guard—even if it _is_ a new Autobot, they may not immediately distinguish us from the enemy."

A chorus of _yes sirs_ went across the channel and conversations continued in private for the remainder of the drive. Not much later they were emerging on the mainland's shore by the docks, and Chief Burns swiftly disembarked to explain to the dockworkers why three emergency vehicles had just driven out of the ocean.

Upon his return Charlie ordered his team to split up, Blades and Dani sticking to the air while the others spread out around the docks. The Com Tab in Cody's lap, synced with the command center computer, helpfully displayed that the Cybertronian signal was coming from nearby.

"Look for anything strange or out of place," Charlie advised before they separated. "Even if they _have_ chosen a vehicular mode, it may not be a standard one."

Blades hadn't even been hovering over the docks for five minutes before he found something decidedly odd very near to the Griffin Rock ferry. He called it in before Dani had fully spotted it.

"Um…does an ambulance in a shipping yard qualify as 'strange or out of place'?"

In an instant the other Rescue Bots had swooped in on Blades' location, cautiously approaching the parked vehicle.

"This is too weird," Kade murmured over the comm line and Heatwave rumbled an agreement as the group inched forward. "I mean…look at it. It's almost like it's waiting for us."

Once more his siblings and colleagues agreed as they approached. The ambulance was parked snugly between two stacks of shipping containers, hidden from the view unless they were in air. It did not move, and not even a single light flickered.

"Could it be asleep?" Cody offered. "Or…recharging?"

"Maybe we shouldn't bother him," Blades offered meekly.

"No," Heatwave decided, standing tall in the shadows cast by yet another row of shipping containers. "We have to find out if he's hostile." Kade tightened his grip on the steering wheel, although he didn't argue.

The garnet mech stepped out into the ambulance's 'line of sight', lifting his servos in a placating gesture belied by his large, intimidating form. "My designation is Heatwave, leader of Rescue Force Sigma-17. We mean you no harm."

There was a beat of silence, and the only sound heard could be the steady rushing of nearby ocean waves, before the ambulance shuddered on its axles. Its surface rippled once more before splitting apart and reforming in the shape of an orange and white Cybertronian about as tall as Chase with a thin chevron across his brow. He eyed Heatwave with critical and unimpressed cerulean optics before scoffing openly.

"Well I certainly _hope_ that you mean me no harm. It would not end well for you or your teammates, I assure you." He waved a lazy servo in the direction of the shipping containers behind which the other Rescue Bots were hiding. "They can come out, if they'd like."

Backstrut rigid, Heatwave jerked his helm to the side, signaling for the others to step out from their covert. The four collectively observed the clearly older Cybertronian in silence for many seconds, who in turn rifled through a medical kit at his hip.

"You're an Autobot," Heatwave said, stating a fact. The medic made a _harrumph_ sound in the back of his throat; a _human_ gesture, as the Rescue Bots had learned.

"Give the mech a prize," he muttered, before turning and giving Heatwave his full attention. "Ratchet, chief medical officer to Optimus Prime." There was no catch to his voice when he mentioned his as-of-late absent leader, but he didn't mask the bitterness that crept into his tone instead. The tension of the situation did not waver much, and under the reproachful optic of the aged medic the four young Autobots felt like younglings being reprimanded for impoliteness toward an elder.

"Well?" Ratchet began irritably, waving a servo in their direction. "Aren't the rest of you going to introduce yourselves?"

The Rescue Bots were quick to say their names.

Ratchet nodded once, mumbling something indistinguishable under his breath, before looking back up at them again. "You are all accounted for then," he said.

Chase was quick to interrupt, after prompting from one of the humans still within him. "Actually, sir, that is not entirely true." At the strange look he was sent, the police-bot opened his windshield and held out a servo for Chief Burns to climb onto.

Ratchet watched at first with a neutral expression as the gray-haired police man stood on Chase's palm, optics carefully hopping from Rescue Bot to Rescue Bot, most likely deducing that there were adult humans within each of them. But then Cody followed his father onto Chase's servo, and the medic's features became truly frightening.

For many quick seconds Ratchet looked like he was actually considering bashing someone over the head with the wrench he'd ominously retrieved from his subspace and snatching the child from their inadequate protection, sporting a thunderous expression that it wouldn't look out of place on a Decepticon. There was a slight tremor to his limbs that only the Rescue Bots and Chief Burns noticed as Cody carefully climbed onto the police-bot's appendage. Though the moment was brief, the hollow, fiery look in Ratchet's optics, once filled with a cool indifference, showed just how difficult it was to contain himself from resorting to action that he would inevitably regret. It was more than obvious that the boy's presence had unsettled him in some way.

Ratchet inhaled deeply through his intake manifolds, the trembling stopped, and he tore his gaze away from the boy and in that instant looked indescribably weak. When he had turned back to the Rescue Bots his optics were cooler, and there was no hint that his near-episode had ever happened. He nodded toward the perturbed police officer still in Chase's palm.

"First of all, Ratchet," Charlie began, a note of uncertainty in regards to the medic's behavior in his voice. "My team can take very good care of themselves, with or without the Rescue Bots help. Though we do appreciate the concern." The medic nodded stiffly, and while his optics were miles away, it still looked like he had to bite his glossa to contain a scathing retort. "Anyway, I'm Chief Charlie Burns of Griffin Rock. My eldest children are partnered with the Rescue Bots—Kade, Graham, and Dani." Each of them waved from within their designated partner. Charlie levelly met the medic's cool gaze. "Why have you come, Ratchet? You obviously knew that you would be detected this close to Griffin Rock."

Ratchet subspaced his wrench and medical kit, folding his servos behind the panels of his back. "I was nearby and low on energon. Optimus previously informed me of your location and I decided to drop by for a…visit, of sorts. To check on your progress and such." He tilted his helm slightly to the side in question. "I hope that this is not a problem?"

Charlie shook his head. "Of course not. We welcome any of Optimus' team. Are you ready to go to the island now?"

Ratchet nodded, transforming quickly back to vehicle mode. The Rescue Bots followed suite, leading the way for the ambulance.

"So we're just letting him came back home with us?" Kade demanded irately over the comm line. "This 'Bot who _says_ he's Prime's medic?"

"Optimus _has_ mentioned him before," Boulder said. "Even though Bumblebee was the only one of his Autobots who ever visited."

"You know, I always wondered about that," Dani inputted. "Why didn't Optimus ever let any of his team come down?"

"It doesn't matter, team," Charlie interrupted. "Ratchet's here and we don't know how long he's going to stay. I'm sure he'll eventually tell us why he's come now."

As the comm lines once again dwindled into general conversation, Cody tugged on his father's sleeve.

"Dad, _do_ you know why Ratchet's here?" he asked worriedly as they reached the dock, and Ratchet somehow hacked into all of their comms and informed them succinctly that by no means would he travel to Griffin Rock underwater and demanded they take the ferry.

Charlie exhaled heavily. "Son, I really have no idea."

* * *

Ratchet began joining the team on missions not even a week after his arrival.

His choice to accompany them went unvoiced, though the few that had tried to question it had swiftly given up upon the blistering glare the aged medic would grace them with. Ratchet acted not only as a human medic, delivering necessary information to Dani and Blades or driving any injured humans to the hospital himself despite any complaints on his part, but he was also as a Cybertronian one, repairing any dents or more damaging wounds the Rescue Bots acquired. He hardly spoke of his team, and when he did it would be a mumbled criticism; like when Heatwave leapt into a ravine to catch a falling car and bled bright blue energon from a tear in his side, and Ratchet knocked a few more dents into his helm with whatever tool was in reach of his servo as he repaired him, muttering, "Dense as dirt…One of the most idiotic ideas I've ever heard of…Bumblebee wasn't even this reckless…".

Ratchet's presence on missions acted as a calming agent. The other Autobots knew that they had a seasoned medic among them, one who, admittedly, swore at them and batted them around with his trusty wrench more often than he gave helpful counsel. He was not social, however. After a job well-done he would scuttle back to his personal quarters in the bunker, which had become more of a lab than somewhere fit for recharge. Doc Greene had been more than happy to donate whatever technology was needed, and had even offered to help the Cybertronian scientist with any projects of his. And while it was safe to say that Ratchet was nearly always polite (or at least mildly civil) with the humans and performed as a mindless robot flawlessly, he could be insulting and criticizing just as easily, doing so without missing a beat. Greene was quickly ejected from the bunker, but still followed Ratchet in a lost, hopeful fashion whenever either came around.

And furthermore, in the weeks that followed, Chief Burns also received a call from the Pentagon.

Charlie excused himself from the table during breakfast to speak in private, and returned drawn and pale.

"Dad?" Cody said, worry coloring his tone and expression and his siblings waited in silence, allowing him to question his father. "What happened? Who called?"

Charlie cleared his throat, falling back into his seat. He picked up his mug of coffee but didn't drink from it. "That was Special Agent Fowler," he began, looking down at his drink as if hoping it would provide him an answer or the words to continue. "And…he said…" His children sat on the edge of their seats, worriedly confounded by their father's inability to speak.

"What did he say, Dad?" Kade demanded, and was shushed by Dani and Graham. Charlie inhaled sharply.

"Turn on the news, Cody. Please."

Cody blinked but did as he was told, passing over Huxley's daily report and pausing at the Worldwide News Network. On the screen, described by one of the news anchors, was a massive, metal structure hundreds of feet high amid an otherwise barren dessert. It was clearly not man-made and the headline beneath it read 'Alien's Among Us? Unearthly fortress created in Jasper, Nevada—hidden by government'.

The table was utterly silent, and Cody hardly felt his thumb press the volume button to make the anchor heard.

"—apparently built a little over a week ago, this 'alien fortress' reportedly appeared in Jasper, Nevada after the town's population had been evacuated. Witnesses say that a beam of light descended from the clouds and shook the ground, this tremor extending for many miles. When it had gone the building was in its place. The President has yet to make an official statement concerning the matter, and the Pentagon is also keeping quiet. And the question on everyone's mind: Are there _really_ aliens, and if so, how long have they been here in—"

The television powered down with a cheerful whir courtesy of Kade, who had taken the remote from Cody's limp fingers. The five of them were quiet for many minutes after, their breakfasts untouched. Finally, Dani cleared her throat and reached for her father's hand across the table.

"Dad…the 'Bots?"

Charlie had not looked up from his mug, though the coffee had long since cooled, and he did not answer.

"Optimus and the others," Graham tried, consternation flickering behind his glasses. "What happened to them?"

Unable to contain himself, Kade slammed a hand onto the table, startling all but his father. "_Damnit_, Dad, what happened?!"

Charlie finally looked up to meet his son's burning gaze. "I don't know," he said honestly. "Fowler said that their base was destroyed. They haven't been able to complete a full search with the Decepticons over their heads, but they have verified that there are…no survivors. Human or Autobot."

"But Ratchet's here," Kade pointed out, brow furrowing. "He may be able to tell us what happened."

"_If_ he'll talk," Graham said. "We'll need to be gentle and give him time—he may have lost his entire team, Kade."

"Guys," Dani whispered, face pale, though the tremor in her voice obtained her family's attention. "Where's Cody?"

* * *

"Do you often bother the Rescue Bots in their free time as well?" Ratchet asked aloud as he tightened the final bolt on the test engine before him. Cody, taking the medic's complaint as consent to enter, let the human-sized door slide closed behind him.

"I just came to check up on you, is all," Cody said innocently as he walked over to Ratchet's side, stopping when he was level with his ankle. "We never see you and you hardly leave your cave."

"It is a _laboratory_," Ratchet mumbled sourly, stooping down to pick up the boy and drop him on the high counter in a movement so swift and natural that for half a second Cody could not believe it happened. As Cody sat down to watch Ratchet's nimble servos glance over the nooks and crannies of the test engine, the medic said, in a surprisingly conversational tone, "Your family warned you about my temperament, did they not? Wouldn't want me 'biting your head off' now would we?"

Cody shrugged, pulling his legs into a cross-legged position. "Heatwave did say you might be in one of your moods, but I know you wouldn't hurt me."

The boy was too busy picking at a loose string on his sleeve to notice Ratchet's servos still over the engine.

"And how are you so certain of this?" he inquired grimly, tightening any loose bolts he found.

Cody ran a hand through his hair, brushing it from his eyes. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I just am." He leaned forward and tried to turn his head sideways to meet the medic's lowered optics. "And besides, do you remember when we first met? I saw that you looked perfectly fine with my dad and Kade and the others being partnered with the 'Bots, but then you saw _me_ and you almost lost it." Cody blinked. "Why?"

Ratchet slammed his wrench down onto his worktable, making the boy jump. "If living with giant alien robots is not danger enough, partaking in 'missions of mercy' certainly is." He wrenched open a cabinet behind him that Cody hadn't noticed before, pulling out a large container of some strange, glowing green liquid.

"I mean, _look at you_!" Ratchet jerked a servo in Cody's general direction as he snapped the container into an injector. "Barely a child." He then inserted it into the fuel tank of the test engine, talking and gesturing wildly with one servo all the while. "And yes, you may have your big, strong Autobots to protect you, but the war front is no place for a child, much less a _human_ child, to—"

"But Ratchet," Cody interrupted softly, "We're not _in_ a war."

Ratchet seemed to freeze, servos completely still as the last drops of the green liquid dripped into the test engine. His optics were very far away, and Cody was quite sure that he was not seeing the plain steel walls of his storage room-turned laboratory.

"N-no, of course not," he said after a good while, pulling the injector out of the engine and setting it aside with unsteady servos.

"Ratchet," Cody tried, standing up, "Please tell me."

"Tell you _what_?" the medic snapped, optics like ice. His servos had not stopped trembling.

Cody swallowed as he was held by Ratchet's steely gaze, feeling like an insect pinned up for display. "What-what happened, Ratchet. Please tell me."

Ratchet looked away and began to fiddle with the engine again. As the seconds stretched into minutes Cody feared that the medic would never speak and he began to look for a way down—

"There were three children in our company."

Cody paused at the edge of the counter, staying silent to ponder if he had heard right, before turning back to face the medic. Ratchet stood hunched over his experiment as usual, wrench hovering over his glowing test engine, though his optics were distant once again. The boy swallowed.

"What were—"

"Their names were Jack, Miko, and Rafael," Ratchet interrupted, voice much softer than Cody was used to. "Bright young things, all of them. Annoying as micro-scraplets, yes, but…"Ratchet turned his helm away, his optics tightly shut. "You and Rafael are quite alike. I have no doubt that you would have become friends—oh, why am I telling you this?!" the medic suddenly barked, pounding a fist onto the counter and nearly making Cody lose his balance. "You're only a child, you couldn't possibly understand—"Despite his rage, Ratchet's expression was still very far away and full of pain. This time, however, it was Cody who interceded.

"I _do_ understand, Ratchet," he pleaded, stepping closer to the seething medic. "Optimus and Bumblebee were my _friends_—just like they were yours." Cody rested a hand on Ratchet's servo, the larger appendage dwarfing his own so much it was nearly comical. "_Please_ tell me what happened to everyone."

Ratchet only flinched slightly at the contact, and he avoided eye contact for several moments, indescribable emotion swirling behind his glowing optics. When he finally met Cody's gaze he vented again in a way that sounded similar to sigh.

"I take it Agent Fowler took the liberty of contacting your family?"

Cody nodded. "He called my dad."

The Cybertronian hummed. "Then you know that we are no longer a government secret."

"I saw what the Decepticons did," Cody murmured, gazing down at the hand that Ratchet had not dislodged from his servo despite his clear dislike for human contact. "Did…did everyone…?"

Ratchet nodded stiffly. "The children left with their Autobot guardians through the GroundBridge. We scattered all over your world."

Cody knew that something was amiss by the way Ratchet so calmly and smoothly explained matters that were clearly far worse than how he told them.

"E-everyone?" he asked, voice wavering with what he knew was to come.

Ratchet tightened his digits around the edge of the counter top and left light gouges in the metal. His admittance would only make what happened reality, one that had been successfully ignored and denied in a cloud of ignorant bliss for the past weeks. But by the wide innocent eyes Cody looked up at him with, Ratchet could not deny himself or the boy the truth any longer.

"Optimus stayed behind to ensure that the Decepticons could not follow."

* * *

In another week Bulkhead and Miko had joined them.

The girl made fast friends with Dani and Frankie, and would constantly demand that Blades take her on rides over the island. She was a ball of unstoppable energy, and followed each Rescue Bot around like a lost puppy for the first few days of her arrival. Miko hardly saw new Autobots and discovering four more was practically a dream come true. Although, the moment she and Bulkhead pulled into the driveway of the firehouse and Miko spotted Ratchet among the gathered bots she had raced out and made a beeline for him, wrapping her arms as well as she could around the crotchety medic's ankle, babbling about how much she had missed him.

Ratchet feigned annoyance when Miko would not leave his side, though when he thought no one was looking he would watch the energetic girl with warmth and gratitude.

Bulkhead, however, had duties of his own. When he wasn't keeping an eye on Miko he was training the Rescue Bots for battlefield combat. Heatwave took to the lessons like a fish to water and once Bulkhead decided he had learned enough he had the fire response-'Bot teach his teammates. Even Ratchet's medical lessons grew more intense.

It was clear that the pair was readying the untrained Rescue Bots for a war that would soon arrive at their front door, and while they were hidden from Decepticon attention for now by a signal-masking barrier constructed by Ratchet, Boulder, Doc Greene, and Graham, their safety would not last forever.

It was a month before Bumblebee and Rafael arrived with an new and familiar 'Bot named Jazz who set up a boot camp for the Autobots. As Ratchet had guessed, Rafael and Cody got along famously and helped outfit the Command Center computer with a firewall strong enough to keep even Soundwave out.

Arcee, Jack, and Smokescreen were the last, coming to Griffin Rock two and a half months later. The young Praxian and Chase were quick to butt heads, while Arcee joined as another instructor. Jack made it his priority to watch over the children.

Throughout the chaos of the months following Ratchet's initial arrival, Griffin Rock had changed as well.

After Megatron's first televised address to the planet, declaring who and what he was and his intentions, Mayor Lusky and his wife were some of the first to flee the island. The townsfolk were also quick to connect the dots surrounding their robotic protectors' true origins and many left just as quickly as the mayor. A few of those that remained, Doc Greene, Professor Baranova, the Pfeiffers, Mrs. Neederlander, Haley, and Huxley Prescott, for example, worked together to keep Griffin Rock running and protected. Others were simply far too stubborn to leave their home, and had no qualms about the Autobots' presence.

The Autobots looked to Ratchet for guidance and leadership yet again, though now their leader was gone for good and not in the thrall of their enemy. It was difficult to decide which would have been worse.

Ratchet doubted himself, as he always did when in command. He was not meant to create battle strategies, even if Jazz had quite a firm grasp on the subject, nor lead troops into battle. They were still few in number, though he did send out another encoded Autobot signal into space, hoping for more recruits. Optimus Prime was gone, however. And Ratchet knew that without their Prime there would be very few Autobots answering to the call.

But with every feeling of self-doubt that grew, he would watch one or all of the children joke with their family, human and Autobot, or Rafael would give him an encouraging word when attempting to help him hack into the_ Nemesis_' mainframe, or Miko would make fun of him again, or Cody would look at him with his bottomless and knowing dark eyes, still so full of innocence despite all he had seen and would see, and Ratchet would know that he could not surrender. Until he was under Megatron's heelstrut, plasma cannon to his helm, he would protect however many of his teammates were left. He owed Optimus, and Cody, that at the very least.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:** If you see a character you don't recognize, be sure to look them up on tf wiki . net or just message me if you're really curious. _

_Transformers and its characters belong to Hasbro_

* * *

Darkness gradually left his vision and was replaced with the smoking, sparking, and caved-in interior of the _Jackhammer_.

Wheeljack moaned as pain coursed through the panels of his frame, and while not a novel feeling it was certainly one he never enjoyed. He leaned forward enough that his aching helm rested against the ship's main controls, fried and bent and just as damaged as the rest of the craft.

The armor over his left rotator cup had been melted through by the explosion that had grounded him, and when he shifted his upper body anymore in the slightest he could feel the shrapnel peppering his left side and shoulder as it dug painfully into the luckily nonessential circuits below his panels.

He released a hiss through his dentia, containing and classifying the injuries into 'Searing Pain That Made Him Want to Bite Off His Glossa By How He Was Containing His Screams' and 'Agonizing but Manageable' categories. _What was it that Miko once said; _he thought wildly, _'Suck it up'?_

Wheeljack raised the servo that was the least damaged and thumbed the console to activate the ship's mainframe, hoping it was still functional.

"Computer, damage report," he ordered in a tone so weary that it would have embarrassed him under normal circumstances, and carefully sat up.

"_Starboard engine detached, critical damage to hull, and shield power is at 20%. Autopilot has been disabled, and hairline cracks are present in the cockpit glass resulted from impact. Estimated repair time: 40 solar cycles."_

Wheeljack groaned again, this time out of exasperation instead of pain.

"The 'Cons must think I'm offline if they haven't finished me off," Wheeljack said to himself, if only to hear a voice that wasn't that of the computer's monotone. "How long have I been in stasis?" he asked louder.

"_Approximately four megacycles."_

The Wrecker grunted as he rose from his seat, an annoying twinge beneath the armor of his right knee added to his growing list of ailments.

"Not long then," he muttered. His digits rested on the ravaged console in a moment of pensive silence, hovering over the comm. He made up his mind in the next klik, sending a brief report over the 'waves.

"Wheeljack to Autobot Outpost Omega One. You 'Bots online in there?"

Wheeljack was met with the jarring though not entirely unexpected blast of static. He tried contacting them several more times, more out of his own stubbornness than actual hope of their survival, before the ache over the entire left side of his chassis grew into an unbearable pain and he was forced to crouch among the wreckage and complete a quick diagnostic and repair. He was in a hurry to get out and assist the 'Bots, and he would be of no help if he slipped into stasis lock from energon depletion. As it was, the longer he was online the more wounds surfaced. The left side of his faceplate stung something fierce, but he ignored it and other superficial injuries in his hurry to the entrance, even if he had to wade through and around bent pieces of the hull and fallen cables to get there. Moonlight shone through cracks in the ceiling and onto his scarred and blackened armor as he kicked the sluggish gangplank open.

Wheeljack stepped out into a cloudless Nevada night, a slender crescent moon providing a limited light source in the endless dark blue of the desert. His ship had crashed at the foot of one of many mesas, and as he observed the wreckage from outside it was a wonder he had survived.

He limped around the rock so that he was in view of the butte that housed the base—only to find that it wasn't there. Correction; the foundation of the mesa was still there, but the rest had been blown apart and left to smolder like a gutted animal, black smoke still rising from the center.

Wheeljack would later claim madness when he felt his spark concave and the bitter feeling of dread fill him. There was no room for second guesses or wild hopes with the final symbol of the Autobot cause blown to the Pit. A shadow had fallen across him; one he allowed himself was to believe was only another one of the desert's countless rock formations and not the Decepticons' newest fortress.

Without a word—for what could encompass the horror of such events—Wheeljack transformed and sped over to the remains of the base, exacerbating his injuries in the process.

He reverted to bipedal mode once he arrived, critically observing whatever remained of the original structure. The automated entrance had caved in, and portions of the rocky exterior remained standing high above him, though areas of it had collapsed under their own weight. It was over these that Wheeljack clambered into what was left of Autobot Outpost Omega One.

After sifting through the ruble for an Earth hour, Wheeljack found no trace of anything Cybertronian—living or dead—although that still told him nothing. Megatron could have come and disposed of the bodies for all he knew, or perhaps fashioned a throne out of them—it seemed sadistic enough on Megatron's part.

Wheeljack growled at the thought of filthy Decepticon servos on the blasted frames of the Autobots, never given a proper ceremony—before he realized what exactly he was imagining.

"You don't know if they're offline, you sick slagger," he swore, standing with his shoulders stooped over the Autobot sigil on the deck of the ruined base. Wheeljack ran a weary servo down the length of his faceplate, an action he'd seen Ratchet do a time or two when he or the children had him at his wits end, though the Wrecker now felt numb as he copied the (possibly) deactivated medic. He didn't even notice how his servo came away sticky with energon.

Wheeljack continued his search, trudging around charred rubble, random components of consoles too fried to be of use anymore, and piles and piles of debris that had become too mangled to discern their original identity. There was no trace of the Autobots' GroundBridge.

He had climbed around a twisted metal frame, perhaps something that was left from a railing or light support, when he noticed something odd about the rubble surrounding it. There was a large gap in the debris, as if whatever was embedded there had simply decided to up and walk away. Raising his cranial unit, Wheeljack found another area of rubble had been disrupted, forming a sort of trail, marking the passage of the entity outside the wreckage.

Wheeljack rose from the crouch he had fallen into to nurse his bad knee and followed the trail, finding that it stopped at the rim of the ruined base.

Hope blossomed within him, however pathetic and faint, and he quickly scaled the craggy outcrop and leapt back down into the cool desert sand, the cool blues of the night a pleasant contrast against the burning red and black smoke he so often associated with war. The calming presence of the desert disappeared in an instant when his right knee gave out as he landed, and as the circuits and tendons twisted he had to grit his dentia to contain his cry of pain.

As the sharpness of his injury began to give way to a throbbing ache Wheeljack could ignore, he carefully bent down and made out drag marks in the dirt, continuing on into the distance. With a vent of his systems he transformed and followed the tracks, not sparing the gutted base a last look. They did not go on for very long, heading away from open desert into the collection of buttes set in a canyon wide enough to easily hide a Cybertronian.

He stopped at the edge of these mountains and reverted to robot mode, setting his scanners to pick up any nearby life signals as he stepped into the canyon. There was definitely a Cybertronian nearby, but the crash had messed with his scanner (and everything else) so he was unable to pinpoint its location. In the end there would be no need. Just as Wheeljack rounded on a final outcropping, he found Optimus Prime leaning against the base of another.

"Leakin' lubricants, Prime," he muttered as he limped over, ignoring the relief that flooded his spark, "You had me looking all over the entire slaggin' desert. Where are the others, did they—"Wheeljack's words died and shriveled on his glossa once he realized that Optimus was not going to answer. His frame was slumped, optics dim, and he was missing his left servo from the elbow down.

Wheeljack moved quickly, skills honed by battle taking over as he retrieved his toolbox from his subspace in one instant and wrenched the Prime's spark chamber open in the next. His spark was weak, but still beating beneath its Matrix sheaf. Wheeljack did not stop to express his relief a second time.

Closing Optimus's spark chamber, he began to work on patching up the energon leaking out of innumerable scratches and gouges in his mesh, starting with the sparking stump of a left arm. After a swift diagnostic, Wheeljack found that the limb had been (_Blown off? It seemed likel_y) severed below the main tendons of the elbow, so a replacement could be easily made and attached.

He dulled the Prime's pain receptors before sealing the sparking wires in the stump. He then stopped the flow of energon by welding sheets of steel he'd retrieved from his kit over the end of the limb, closing it with the next best thing to synthetic mesh.

Wheeljack had just finished patching some of the Prime's more troublesome wounds, the latest being one that was worryingly deep and near to his spark chamber, and to repair it the Wrecker had to nearly lean against the Prime's shoulder to reach it properly, when his patient's optics flared to life.

The previously prone Autobot jolted out of stasis, bucking Wheeljack off of him and trained the glowing muzzle of his lone cannon at his red and green chest plate. Before Wheeljack's shock could be replaced with outrage, Optimus pulled himself to his pedes, his gun never once leaving the white blur his cracked optics saw before him.

"State your designation and your intentions," Optimus boomed, his commanding timbre belied by the quaking of his limbs.

"Should've fixed the optics first," Wheeljack muttered, before saying louder, "It's me, Optimus."

The Prime blinked, sporting an uncharacteristic expression of astonishment. "Wheeljack…," he rumbled, before his stabilizing servos gave out from under him. Wheeljack was there to support him in an instant, his right knee and shoulders screaming from the weight as he helped the red and blue behemoth sit back down.

"You're alive," Optimus murmured before affixing his glassy gaze to the left of where Wheeljack was. "And the others?"

The Wrecker had turned to rifle through his limited tool arsenal for something that would temporarily repair the Prime's vision. "Not sure," he answered honestly. "I didn't find any bodies."

Optimus nodded, ignoring the implication behind Wheeljack's words. "Of course, they departed by SpaceBridge. They were gone before Megatron attacked," he mumbled, and while Wheeljack dare not be presumptuous, it seemed as if the mighty Optimus Prime was talking to himself.

"They left?" Wheeljack asked, unable to hide the surprise from his vocals as he fiddled with the wires at the back of the Prime's helm. Optimus allowed the Wrecker to complete his repairs, unseeing optics trained across the desert.

"They scattered all over the Earth," Optimus said, just as Wheeljack deactivated his optical receptors. Alarmed, he groped for purchase on the stone behind him in a failed attempt to stand again. "Wheeljack—!"

"_Relax_," Wheeljack interrupted, moving one servo from the bunch of wires to clamp onto the Prime's shoulder. "I just cut the power to your optics for the time being. You'll strain yourself if you keep trying to see out of cracked lenses."

"Is the damage…repairable?" Optimus questioned after a moment, and Wheeljack chuckled as he returned his toolbox to subspace and draped the Prime's complete arm over his shoulders, helping him to his feet.

"Well I may be no Ratchet, but I think you'll live," Wheeljack joked, and felt a sense of achievement at the Prime's almost-smile.

"We must retrieve the Star Saber from the base," Optimus said as they trudged out of the canyon, Wheeljack's knee joint already aching.

Wheeljack huffed through his vents as he judged the distance to the remains of Outpost Omega One. "Well maybe you shouldn't have wandered so far."

Despite the obvious insubordination, the gears in Optimus' throat made a sound akin to a hum. "Perhaps. Although I did not know if the Decepticons had gone or if they were aware of their failed deactivation."

"My guess is they weren't," Wheeljack said, glancing pointedly at the very Decepticon-less night sky—excluding the fortress—that he knew Optimus could not see.

"Indeed."

The pair fell silent, and only the creaks and groans of their beaten frames were heard in the wide open desert as they strained to continue their trek. Wheeljack made them stop when it became clear that the sightless Prime needed time to rest, and his new battle scars would glow silver in the moonlight as he hunched over the much-smaller Autobot to regain what little strength he had.

"So what's this 'Star Saber' of yours," Wheeljack muttered once the remains of the base were only a few dozen yards away. With the moon shining directly over it, illuminating the rubble that once made up a home with a sheen akin to energon, it reminded him of an animal left to die more than ever.

Optimus Prime was quiet for a moment, and the sound of sand crunching beneath their pedes suddenly seemed much louder. "We did not inform you enough on what was occurring."

Wheeljack half-shrugged. "It's all right. I know you had bigger things on your plate. Plus, I bet Ratchet wasn't particularly inclined to have me along after that stunt I pulled Miko into."

The Prime shook his helm. "That does not excuse my negligence. You would have been a helpful asset, though I—"

"Listen, it's fine," Wheeljack interrupted, his second act of insubordination that night. "I understand. Now, what's the Star Saber?"

Optimus did not respond for a moment, and for a millisecond Wheeljack thought he would be reprimanded, but then the Prime vented and relented.

"It is a sword of tremendous power, crafted by one of the original Thirteen, which can only be wielded by a Prime." Even as he spoke of the sword to end all wars, by his deadened optics it was clear that he would be having a proper conversation with the Wrecker once their injuries had both been tended to. He continued gravely. "I do not believe the explosion would have destroyed it, nor the Forge."

Wheeljack whistled. "Wow. Important stuff, then. We're gonna need a way to haul 'em around, plus make repairs…"

"Your ship…?"

"Believe it or not, the _Jackhammer's_ in more need of repairs than we are."

Optimus bowed his helm for a klik and when he looked back up, his optics, while still dim, shone brightly despite their darkness and a chaste smile—almost a smirk, but not quite—was tugging at his faceplate.

"As luck would have it, I believe that we possess something that will manage our needs."

* * *

It turned out that Optimus Prime had a fragging space ship in storage.

To be fair, it was little more than a shuttle by most standards, though twenty times the size of the _Jackhammer_ and built especially so taller mechs like Optimus needn't duck to get around.

Before they had gotten to the ship, stored in a bunker smaller than Autobot Outpost Omega One and not far from the ruined base, they had gone for Optimus's weapons. Both were found unscathed, as he said they would be, with only a thin layer of dirt and ash over the Saber and Forge telling what they had gone through.

Once they had arrived at the ship, and the Wrecker had finished fawning over its sleek gold surfaces and stellar controls, he'd directed it to the _Jackhammer_, where he had the wreckage of his ship lifted into the cargo hold. From there he took his entire medical kit and got to work finishing his repairs on the Prime.

"So what're we gonna do once we're done with all this?" Wheeljack probed as he set to reactivating Optimus' optics. "Are we looking for the others?"

"You do not feel the need to…'work alone'?" Optimus answered carefully, and Wheeljack's servos stilled as he scoffed.

"I'm pretty sure I'm needed as a team player from now on," Wheeljack said with a smirk. "Now, about joining the others…?"

Wheeljack felt the Prime's wide shoulders lower in a near soundless vent. "We cannot contact the Autobots without jeopardizing their positions, putting both them and the children at risk. The Decepticons are stronger now—we can afford no mistakes."

The Wrecker nodded stiffly, despite the ache in his spark at not even being able to hear Bulkhead or Miko's voice. "So Team Prime's on the run, then?" he asked rhetorically, but Optimus nodded all the same. Despite the somber air that had befallen them, Wheeljack took the time to grin regardless of the pain it caused his scarred faceplate.

"Then I think some reinforcements are in order."

Even blind, Optimus's skeptical, suspicious gaze was as potent as it had ever been.

* * *

In his journeys, both on and off-world, Wheeljack had come into contact with a number of characters, many of them possible allies. Although most had been too preoccupied with battles light-years away and were not about to listen to the ravings of a 'Bot whose unit had been the only one mad enough to stay on Cybertron and get killed for it. Wreckers were always better to be avoided—you'd live longer.

But once a Prime was the one hailing the Autobots scattered across the cosmos, they came without question, like moths to a flame.

Optimus himself was certainly not as worse for wear as he'd been a month prior. With a replacement servo in place of the one he'd lost, he'd regained nearly all motor function in the patchwork limb. Wheeljack promised when (_not if_) they got to Ratchet, he'd construct a more battle efficient one that was easier on the optics. Optimus was nonetheless thankful, though a new servo was not the only permanent casualty of war. One of his optical nerves had been blasted to such a degree that the Prime was completely blind out of it. Even with a replaced lens and rerouted cables, Wheeljack doubted that even _Ratchet_ could fully repair it. It had taken Optimus an entire week to relearn how to walk, fight, and survive with only one functioning optic.

Wheeljack had not escaped unscathed either. Beside the shrapnel in his side and shoulders that had been fully removed, his right knee joint would be a weakness for an indefinite period of time, and the left side of his faceplate was heavily scarred, leftovers of the damage he had endured during his crash.

Both, even when their injuries healed, had not gone after a single Decepticon. Wheeljack was able to hack into their comm frequencies unnoticed from time to time, to learn when Megatron would launch his inevitable master plan, and as far as the Lord of the Decepticons knew, Optimus and his team had been obliterated. That idea had only been cemented when neither Autobot had been able find Optimus' missing limb, most likely taken as a trophy. Wheeljack had been all for a counterattack, after all he _had_ succeeded in surprising Megatron a few times with his assaults on the energon mines, but he obeyed Prime's orders. They could not stage a defense without reinforcements, ones which did indeed come.

The first to join 'Team Prime 2.0', as Wheeljack had affectionately dubbed them, had been on the planet for quite some time, though according to Autobot records had never taken part in the War. A Neutral, or so he said, named Drift who had lived among humans in Japan for centuries. He had been staying with the descendants of the family he first met upon his arrival in Tara, Saga two hundred years ago.

They met Drift on the peak of Mount_ Kyōga_ under the cover of night, their ship cloaked from detection by human technologies. Optimus himself lumbered down the gangplank to greet their newest recruit and was surprised by that he found.

The 'Bot before Optimus certainly matched the clipped and polite voice print they had heard on the ship's communication frequency, younger than Wheeljack but older than Bumblebee, standing tall before him in white armor that had hints of orange decals and Japanese _kanji_ on his shoulders, with a faceplate of somber silver and standard blue optics. Across his brow was a chevron the same shade of white as his helm. Though he carried three swords, two in his hip scabbards, shorter and blunter than Wheeljack's own blades, and one massive sword strapped to his back that Optimus found rather familiar, Optimus saw no blasters or room for them on him.

Drift bowed deeply before the battle-scarred Prime before rising to meet his leader's optics, one bright blue and the other a diminished gray, determination set in the corners of the ninja-bot's mouthplate.

"I am honored to be considered recruitment material, Optimus Prime, sir."

Wheeljack snorted from where he leaned against the gangway railing.

"Like we had a choice."

Drift spared the Wrecker a cool look before turning back to the Prime. "And, again, my sincerest apologies for not answering to your initial call." He lowered his helm in submission. "But as I was never an Autobot, and everyone scattered after the war, I figured there would be no more use for me."

"Well we have use for ya now, so come on—"Wheeljack began impatiently, only to snap his mouthplate shut when Optimus raised his patchwork servo.

"We appreciate your company all the same, Drift," Optimus said sincerely, and the white 'Bot inclined his helm again. "Now more than ever. I personally thank you for deciding to join us in a battle that is not your own."

"I fear it has become everyone's battle," Drift said solemnly, and he accepted the Prime's outstretched servo.

* * *

After Drift, the Autobots that followed came much quicker.

Their ship, while functioning flawlessly in nearly every way, was unable to break through Earth's upper atmosphere due to damage to her navigation grid when they landed. Wheeljack joked that all the Autobots' tech wanted to keep them planet-side.

The new Autobots were required to hide their vessels, whether that be in the densest of jungles or cloaked on some mountaintop, before meeting with the Prime. The next Cybertronians landed together, though not by choice, and they could be heard bickering even as the gangplank lowered. Wheeljack and Drift were the first to disembark, the latter as silent as a wraith, both standing as sentinels before the ship entrance and the gathered party paid them no heed.

There were three Autobots before them, already sporting Earth kibble, one of them a massive crimson mech taller and slimmer than Bulkhead, with cannons that were nearly half his length attached to each forearm, clicking and whirring in agitation. He was heavily battered as well, with so much chipped paint, gashes, and nicks that it was evident how little he cared for his looks.

The two younger mechs he was lecturing were much shorter, about Drift's height, and clearly twins. One had scarlet armor and a black helm, and appeared to be the instigator of their squabbling. His twin looked alike in nearly every way, gangly and brawny, though his bright yellow armor had clearly seen a great deal of polishing and glistened in the sunlight. He had his servos crossed over his chassis and a stormy look on his faceplate as his other half ribbed at him and the huge mech behind them ordered for them to clam up in a thick drawl.

Once the echoes of the Prime's steps could be heard as he descended the gangplank all voices stilled. The twins appeared as cowed as their respective prides would allow as they stood at attention before their commander, while the crimson Autobot grinned.

"_Prime_!" he bellowed as soon as Optimus had stepped off the ship, and he moved forward to intercept the red and blue mech. "If you aren't a sight fer sore optics! I hardly recognized ya without yer mask!"

Wheeljack was only mildly surprised to see Optimus's mouthplate lift in a genuine smile. "It is good to see you as well, old friend," he said fondly, clasping the red 'Bot's servo. "Although, I am surprised to see you in this sector of the galaxy, Ironhide."

The 'Bot, Ironhide, made a sound akin to a human snort. "Ya mean that yer surprised to see me still _online_." He rolled his shoulders and jerked his helm in the direction of the twins, the scarlet one having been elbowing his brother in the side and stopping once the focus had been turned on them. "Ran into these walkin' malfunctions on my way to Alpha Centauri. Told me 'bout yer call an' here ah am."

Optimus rested a servo on Ironhide's shoulder, and if he noticed the veteran's flinch did not comment on it. "And for that we are thankful, old friend." He looked up to include the twins in his fathomless gaze. "And I promise that all will be explained." His servo fell from Ironhide's shoulder and the mech's enormous cannons clicked as they shifted in place.

"For now," Optimus continued, "You may state your designations."

The yellow twin stepped forward, snapping into a smart salute. "Sunstreaker, sir. I was part of Project Generation One, Gamma unit, during the War."

"You guarded the_ Ark_," Optimus realized. Sunstreaker nodded wordlessly and the Prime turned to his twin.

"Name's Sideswipe, _mon capitaine_," the red mech stated with a grin and looser salute than his twin. "Member of Project Generation One, and pilot of the _Ark._"Sideswipe's grin slipped into something more wane. "But I'm sure you already knew that."

Optimus nodded all the same. "Indeed, Sideswipe. I am grateful for both you and your twin's safe arrival."

Sideswipe bobbed his helm vigorously, his grin returning in full force. "Slag yeah! And I can't wait to see the rest of your team—bring crammed in a tin can with Sunny over here was not a pleasant experience, let me tell you." Disregarding Sunstreaker's affronted grunt, he pressed on. "Cliffjumper told me a while back that he was meeting up with you guys, and Jazz said he was on his way too."

By the ship, Wheeljack winced and Drift sent him a mildly curious glance. Optimus seemed unfazed, and it was his cool exterior that alerted Ironhide and Wheeljack, letting them know that he had tucked his guilt (and any other revealing emotion) away.

Optimus still managed something that was passable for a smile, while Ironhide watched him with an expression that demanded explanation, from the state of the two absent Autobots to his useless optic and replaced servo, a look that Optimus consented too without a word.

"I believe it may be time for us to depart," was all he said, however, motioning to their ship with his genuine servo. "If you two wish to be the first aboard….?"

Sideswipe whooped as he dashed forward, calling "Shotgun!" behind him.

Sunstreaker followed his twin at a saner pace, and muttered "Idiot" under his breath.

* * *

The final additions to their team came completely by surprise.

It had been nigh a week since Ironhide and the twins had joined them, and it was clear that the Decepticons were growing in power.

Thanks to Wheeljack's careful ministrations their ship was nearly undetectable by both Decepticon and human scanners, and the peace they were provided was filled with training exercises and battle tactics. All of them were gunning for the 'Cons, but Optimus held then back with a steady, false servo and grim countenance. They were not yet ready.

The Decepticons were, however.

The transmission had been received by accident—they had parked the ship in the Rockies, and the snow was so thick and the blizzard so fierce that no human would be foolhardy enough to come near. Wheeljack had ducked under the control console, repaired a few loose wires to the communication grids, when the transmission began to play, one that Wheeljack would later say had broadcast across the planet.

Megatron was on the screen.

"Greetings, inhabitants of Earth," the cruel-faced Cybertronian leered, and the bridge began to fill with the other Autobots, staring at the projection in equal horror and forbidding understanding. "I am Megatron, Lord of the Decepticons, and Destroyer of Worlds. As of now, your planet is not your own. I am in possession of a warship, an armada—you retain no way to defend yourselves. Your governments have known of our existence and done nothing—they can do nothing now.

"Make what you can of the days you have left, humankind. Your lord and master's rage will be swift, and only the strongest of your pathetic race will survive."

The transmission faded to static, and only the howling of the wind beyond the hull could be heard. Optimus was the first to break the stifling silence.

"Megatron will not take long to act," Optimus Prime said, exhaustion and guilt and a quiet rage displayed in every corner of his frame. "We must be prepared for the coming battle."

A ship crash landed nearby the next day.

* * *

Optimus set out into the snow with Ironhide and Wheeljack. The storm had calmed, though the blizzard was still very much raging.

On their way toward the plume of smoke beyond the next peak, Wheeljack took point as he was smaller and lighter on his pedes, while the two senior Autobots debated the trustworthiness of their ex-Neutral.

"Somethin' about the look in 'is optics, Prime," Ironhide opined as their massive stabilizing servos sank in the snow. "Somethin' not-quite familiar, but definitely sneaky. You sure we can trust the ninja-bot?"

Optimus nodded in reassurance. "I believe in Drift's worth as a solider and as an Autobot. He has not displayed any traits suggesting otherwise, and was gone for a majority of the War for Cybertron, as you are aware, old friend."

Ironhide harrumphed, his cannons twitching. "I'm still keepin' an optic on 'im."

"Understood," Optimus said with one of those barest of smiles. Up ahead, Wheeljack let out a cry as he was thrown bodily back into the snow.

Ironhide had his cannons charged in less than a klik, and Optimus too shifted into a combat position with his one blaster deployed.

As Wheeljack scrambled to his pedes, a disembodied crimson visor appeared amid the sleet. The snow-covered ground trembled beneath the Cybertronian's mighty pedefalls, and a deep tenor was heard, silencing the wind with a plaintive roar:

"Who dares attack _me_, Grimlock?!"

With that crude and familiar statement, the Autobots dropped their battle-ready positions. Ironhide groaned, muttering an expletive, Wheeljack shuttered his optics, and even Optimus appeared surprised.

It nearly took him a breem, but Optimus found his vocals. "Grimlock, you are not under attack. It is I, Optimus Prime, with Autobots Ironhide and Wheeljack."

The crimson visor was joined by another, and then a cerulean visor and a pair of burning red optics, the frames of these behemoths only shadows against the blizzard. The biggest of them growled, only his and Optimus's voices able to completely trump the wind.

"Optimus _Prime_?! Of course _you'd_ still be alive."

Despite Grimlock's sour tone, he was forming complete sentences with little difficulty—a good sign. Optimus's optical ridges furrowed, however.

"Did you not receive my summons to this planet?"

The ground quaked again, and all four pairs of optics moved closer. "I ignored _your_ slagging summons," Grimlock announced. "We came to this rock 'cause of all the 'Cons."

With that, the Dinobots stepped fully into that Autobots' line of vision, just as massive and intimidating as they'd last seen them. Grimlock glowered down at Optimus Prime.

"Why would _you_ want us here?"

Swoop took a step forward, a calming servo on his friend's arm. "I think they want our help, Grim," the transforming pterosaur advised with a grin.

Grimlock whirled his helm back to face Optimus, something like self-satisfaction on his otherwise nonexistent expression. "So the mighty Optimus Prime needs _our_ help," he said smugly, leaning forward so that he loomed over the Prime. "And why should we help you, Prime? I can take my Dinobots and kick Megatron's sorry can ourselves." He was keeping his temper in check, for now, and his pride was certainly aiding in the attempt for the time being.

Optimus, not one to be easily threatened, only splayed his servos, palms up, in a peaceful gesture. "We are all of us outnumbered on this planet, Grimlock. If what you said is true, and more Decepticons are arriving, we cannot leave humankind to fend for themselves."

At this, Grimlock snorted, stepping back. "You want us to protect the organics? I knew you were weak, Prime, but—"

"Hey, scrap-for-brains, these 'organics' have more worth than you ever will!"

All heads turned to the Autobot who had spoken and found Wheeljack standing tall against their stares. Grimlock growled and took a menacing step toward the Wrecker, his teammates rushing to stop him.

"Peace, Grimlock," Optimus rumbled, stepping pointedly between the struggling Dinobot and the Wrecker. "Wheeljack meant you no insult." Wheeljack opened his mouth to disagree, but a sharp look from the Prime silenced him.

Grimlock sent Wheeljack one final scathing glare before nodding stiffly, and the Dinobots released him. They all knew that he easily could have broken their hold and the fact that he had not meant he was still able to control his rage.

"Now, Grimlock, I understand your frustration," Optimus assured, servos outstretched. "I empathize with you, even. You may not have known, but we have accepted Earth as our new home."

This was evidently the wrong thing for Optimus to say as a roar tore through the gears of Grimlock's throat and he stomped forward, the ground jolting from under them. "_Cybertron_ is home!" he thundered, and his tone grew coarse and harsh and dark, brooking no argument. Optimus tried anyway.

"Cybertron is _gone_, Grimlock," the Prime argued gently, his rolling velvet timber becoming anguished, "We can never return to it. I made sure of it."

Everybot started, even Wheeljack, who hadn't heard of the news until now. The Dinobots exchanged uncertain glances as well, until Snarl spoke up from behind their leader.

"What do you mean, Bossbot?" the youngest of the Dinobots queried slowly.

Optimus Prime lowered his head but his one functioning optic flickered from Autobot to Autobot, capturing each of their gazes as he told what happened to the Omega Lock, the almighty secret he had kept from all them. At the end of his tale Wheeljack was enraged, Ironhide looked like he wanted to pummel something, preferably Megatron's bucket of a head, and the Dinobots sported various expressions ranging from shock to fury. Grimlock, surprisingly, was impassive.

"Why should your failure mean anything to me?" Grimlock finally ground out, folding his massive arms over his chassis.

"It should not," Optimus responded honestly. "It is my blame to bear, Grimlock, but believe me when I say this—you will not find what you're looking for by exacting revenge."

Grimlock stiffened. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do. We all do, Grimlock, as you are more than aware." A sigh made its way through Optimus' intakes. "We know what Shockwave has done to you—"

"_No_," Grimlock interrupted, jabbing a digit into Optimus' chest, directly over his spark chamber. "No you don't, Prime. You don't know what true torture is like." His rage practically rolled off of him in waves, undeterred by the snow that swirled around them, but Grimlock kept himself in check, and he lowered his arm. "And why would joining your slagging 'team' be useful to any one of the Dinobots?"

"I believe it to be time for us to set aside our differences, Grimlock," Optimus said simply, though not unkindly, and he made no move to comfort the leader of the Dinobots. "Long have we been at odds, and, as of now, that _must_ come to an end. We are on a new planet, battling an old enemy who outnumbers us yet again." He stepped forward, firm and unwavering despite having doomed their planet for the umpteenth time, exactly as Grimlock remembered him from eons ago, only more worn and perhaps the wiser for it.

"You said before that you did not see the purpose in protecting the life forms upon this planet," he said, more of a statement than a question, and Grimlock lifted his chin in challenge. Optimus was not goaded, and continued as if he had not noticed. "Join us, Grimlock, if only long enough to meet some of these humans you so revile. If your opinion of them does not change then, you and your teammates are free to go."

Grimlock leaned back, folding his arms again. "And if we refuse?"

"We will not stop you," Optimus answered. "But I feel you would come to regret that decision."

The leader of the Dinobots appeared impassive for several moments, though by the glances his teammates shared it was clear that they had opened a private comm channel.

'_I think we should do it.'_

'_You sure, Swoop?'_

'_We've been let down by Optimus before.'_

'_He's weak.'_

'_That's what you always say, but—'_

'_But _what_, Snarl?'_

'_Calm down, Grim. Snarl has a point. We can't take on all of the Cons; you saw how many were on their way.'_

'_We've done it before.'_

'_We were almost _killed_ before. Listen to Swoop, Grimlock—we want our comeuppance too, but we won't get that on our own.'_

'_Shockwave will still be there after we meet these organics.'_

'_That's what I'm afraid of.'_

A few breems passed before they all turned to face Optimus and the two stoic bots behind him. Grimlock drew himself up, but this time made no move to intimidate Optimus.

"Fine. We'll join you, Prime."

Optimus' stiff joints loosened in relief. "I am glad, Grimlock. This will be worth your time, I—"

Grimlock silenced the Optimus with a servo. "I said we're coming, but at the first sign of Shockwave, you don't try to hold us back. The Pit-spawned fragger deserves what's coming to him." His crimson visor gleamed, holding Optimus' gaze, and from behind the Prime Ironhide's cannons shifted and Wheeljack hopped from pede to pede.

At last, Optimus nodded. "Very well, Grimlock." He made no move to shake the Dinobot's servo, knowing the attempt would be one in vain.

* * *

With the Dinobots among them, tensions had been riding high. The ship was too small for a group their size and one could only avoid the object of their irritation for so long. Without any clue as to where Optimus Prime's team could have fled to they were lost and spent a majority of their time grounded or on patrol, not about to waste the ship's precious energon in a fruitless quest. And it was, the Dinobots were forced to stay on the ship at all times as they had no Earthly guise to transform into. Remarkably, they were all able to control themselves rather well, Grimlock included. He stayed back, usually behind the sturdy barrier of his teammates, and away from anything or anybot who might stoke his inescapable fury.

Unfortunately, there was one 'Bot who succeeded in raising everyone's ire. Drift.

The ninja bot had done nothing that would warrant distrust, which was why the Autobots were so on edge. Always silent, always invisible, and always infallible in his ability to see and hear _everything_ had garnered him the title "Soundwave of the Autobots", along with all the wariness that came from such an allusion. No everyone treated Drift any differently, but they were sure not to turn their backs on him either.

The forced calm on their ship was sure not to last forever, and unsurprisingly it was Wheeljack who brought about its end.

Grimlock was plodding along a hallway on his way to the quarters he and his teammates shared, little more than a storage room due to their massive size. Wheeljack had been coming in the opposite direction, and due to his bulk Grimlock could not maneuver his way through the halls as well as he might have wanted to, and as a result one of his swinging arms caught Wheeljack in the shoulder and jerked him into the wall. Grimlock did not pause in his stride nor did he offer any form of apology.

Had they been on a cramped ship for a shorter time with less passengers, Wheeljack was certain that he would have brushed the incident off. But he was at the end of his rope after another failed attempt to contact the other Autobots, and they _had_ been on a cramped ship for a _very_ long time, with more Autobots than it was built to hold, and was unable to contain his outburst, even when he knew it to be suicidal to reprimand _Grimlock_ of all bots.

"_Hey_!" he snarled. "Watch where you're goin', half-clock!"

The Dinobot's hulking countenance stilled, and it was with deliberate slowness that Grimlock turned his bloodied gaze on the much smaller Wrecker.

Sanity wasn't always a given when you joined the Wreckers, Wheeljack noted in growing glee as Grimlock's servos moved to retrieve the sword from his back.

Meanwhile, on the bridge Slug was running routine maintenance on the ship's main consoles, Drift hovering at his elbow observing and handing tools to the technician from the nearby supply box. They worked silently, in no rush, and Slug's massive servos that so easily crushed Decepticon cranial units skimmed and danced around the circuits and wires and everything else that made up the navigational grid that Drift had no name for with a certain grace.

The sound of nearby blaster fire stilled Slug's servos and both of them exchanged a glance as Grimlock's roar bounced off the walls. Drift straightened, thankful that Ironhide had taken the twins out for target practice as the sounds of fighting drew nearer.

It was not even a breem later when Wheeljack flipped through the entrance, pedes gaining purchase on the floor with a shriek of metal against metal. He had a sword in one servo, the other was reformatted into a blaster, and he was cackling like a madman. The effort it took him to move so fluidly had him favoring his right leg, and the limb itself was trembling. Drift was quick to notice this weakness, and as another savage roar reached them he swiftly approached the Wrecker.

"Wheeljack, whatever it is you and Grimlock are doing, you need to stop," Drift ordered gently, servos lifted in an attempt at mollification.

"Yeah," Slug agreed from behind the ninja-bot, still stooping over the control console, "Some of us are trying to get _actual_ work done over here."

"Apologies," Wheeljack said with a grin that told the exact opposite, and he tightened his hold on his sword. "But I don't think I could call off Big Ugly if I wanted to."

"_SLAGARD!"_ Grimlock boomed from just beyond the entrance, and Wheeljack's grin threatened to crack his faceplate.

"I think that's for me," the Wrecker drawled jauntily, his mirth not faltering, and he spun his sword in one servo. The crash of Grimlock's pedes came to a head as the hulking Dinobot stormed through the entrance, burning crimson light escaping from beneath his armor as boiling vapor, which hadn't come from the shallow blaster wound on his shoulder, rose from his chassis

His blazing energon sword extended, Grimlock leveled his blood-red glare on Wheeljack.

"Hey, big guy, I didn't think you'd make it," Wheeljack wheedled cheerily, "What with that thick head you're hauling around."

"Making me angry—not good idea," Grimlock managed to grind out as he heaved massive vents, his internal systems churning audibly. He clamped both servos around the hilt of his blade. Slug finally rose from the console and carefully made his way over to his leader, his calm words attempting to pacify Grimlock.

Wheeljack had to continue goading the Dinobot. He nodded exaggeratedly in false agreement to whatever Slug was saying. "Oh of course, calm him down. Wouldn't want the science experiment to short circuit, now would we?"

All movement on the bridge ceased and Slug swore. Grimlock looked back up at Wheeljack with a glare so hateful it would have made a weaker 'Bot spontaneously combust.

"What did you say?" Grimlock, frighteningly calm, began to draw himself up to his full, terrifying height, and the blaze beneath his panels increased tenfold. Slug struggled to hold him back. "WHAT DID YOU SAY?"

Wheeljack grinned, undeterred. "Sorry. Shouldn't have expected a pet of Shockwave's to understand. Should I talk slower?"

Grimlock broke Slug's hold in an instant and stormed toward the absurdly smug Wrecker with a ferocious roar, only for a blur of white to get in the way of his target.

"Control yourself, Grimlock!" Drift planted his servos tiny against the Dinobot's chest plate. "Violence only begets more violence, and the ship would not be able to withstand a battle of your magnitude!"

Grimlock stopped and his glower landed on the ninja-bot before him. "You're not even a real Autobot," he accused sharply, not seeing Slug run out into the hall. His rumbling tenor rose in volume. "You can't give me orders, _traitor_!"

With a snarl, he swung his arm and backhanded Drift into the communication console just as Slug returned, Optimus and the other Dinobots on his heels.

"Grimlock, cease this aggression immediately!" Optimus thundered amid the chaos, and Grimlock's teammates hurried to restrain him.

Wheeljack's circuits were still sizzling and as he returned his sword to its sheath he grinned wickedly. "Do you always take Prime's orders, experiment?"

Grimlock roared and Optimus trained his one working optic on the Wrecker. "Wheeljack, stand down," he commanded icily, optic blazing, and Wheeljack finally had the sense to obey.

Turning away from the Prime and the growing effort to compose Grimlock, Wheeljack transformed his blaster back into a servo and extended it toward the ninja-bot still lying against the now dented communications console.

"Ah…sorry about this," he began awkwardly, suddenly looking so much smaller than the bot that had just insulted one of the strongest Autobots in existence, with a buckling right knee and haggard look in his optics that showed just what had been hiding beneath the mask of bravado.

Drift accepted the assistance with a grimace and servo to the back of his head.

"The only thing injured was my pride," he responded, rubbing the dent on the back of his helm. Wheeljack managed a smirk at that, (though he still saw the hate in Grimlock's optics as he denounced Drift as, what, a _traitor?) _and he opened his mouthplate to respond when a very different voice reached them all.

"_Bald eagle to Omega 10-22_," the voice warbled from the comm line in the dented communications console. All movement stilled, and Optimus, in the midst of reprimanding Grimlock, craned his head back in bewilderment, an action that was mimicked by the Dinobots.

"_Bah-weep-Graaaaagnah wheep ni ni bong_. _It's time to go to our home away from home."_

Wheeljack blinked, arms hanging loosely at his sides, and Drift appeared equally confused.

"_Tiny_?" Wheeljack hissed incredulously as the transmission replayed. He turned on an equally stunned Optimus. "Prime, is that Tiny?"

"What's the fleshy babbling about?" Ironhide grunted, having arrived tardy to the spectacle, shoving past Grimlock who seemed determined on becoming an immovable object for those coming on and off the bridge.

Optimus stepped forward, the lectures for his two rabble rousing soldiers momentarily forgotten, both optics remaining wide as relief began to shine even in the dimmed gray lens.

"It is a code," he intoned, digits skimming over the keys of the main console. "One that Agent Fowler created long before the base was lost."

"How in Primus's name is the Universal Greeting a fragging _code_?" Wheeljack demanded, but a reproachful look from Optimus silenced him, in reminder that he was still on thin ice.

"In this instance, Agent Fowler decided on a phrase that would be unsuspected, informing us of when it would be safe to meet. It must have been broadcasting on a loop, though only upon this certain channel."

"Meet where, sir?" Drift asked. Quiet as usual, he received various looks ranging from mild distrust to full loathing (courtesy of Grimlock). Optimus Prime did not turn as he answered, but his shoulders lifted in the epitome of relief.

"Griffin Rock, Maine."

* * *

"I'm not happy about parking the ship underwater," Wheeljack groused as he instated lock down. The Autobots around him had gathered whatever supplies they would need, and where now bustling by the entrance.

"There was nowhere else, Wheeljack," Optimus Prime reminded him, his velvet timbre easily reaching the Wrecker through the din. "I cannot imagine how the inhabitants would react to us landing our ship on the island."

"Yeah, yeah…"

Optimus turned to face his team. "You must all remember these humans already know of our existence, so maximum precautions need be taken. Stay in your vehicles modes for as long as possible, do not draw attention to yourselves, and Dinobots, you must travel through the woods as they are thick enough to hide you all without alerting anyone to your presence."

The Autobots all nodded, Grimlock a bit stiffly, and the Prime looked to the Wrecker at the console. "Wheeljack, you may unlock the doors."

They all crowded into the airtight room, Wheeljack sprinting after them, and once the doors had closed behind him he entered the code to open the spillway, instantly filling the room with seawater. As the bots all transformed and rushed out into the deep, headlights blazing, Grimlock requested communication over a private comm. line with Optimus.

Optimus accepted, and Grimlock's rough tenor reached him. : _You had better hope that these humans are worth it, Prime.:_

: _They will be: _Optimus responded confidently, and above the surface the lights of the island town grew increasingly nearer.


	3. Chapter 3

A great many thanks to everyone who reviewed or added this story to their favorites and alerts! I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much!

Once again, this is rated T for some coarse language.

Transformers and its characters belong to Hasbro.

* * *

"So your robots _are_ actually alive?"

Kade took a moment to mull over Haley's question, leaning back in the very comfortable chair in the Command Center with his arms folded behind his head. "Well…yeah." He scratched his chin. "It used to be a government secret and all that, but, y'know. Things change. Evil alien overlords come hell-bent on taking over the world, and all that."

"You seem to be taking it very well," Haley teased onscreen.

Kade shrugged. "These alien things stop fazing you after a while. It's kind of a white noise now."

"I just think you're in denial," Haley replied loftily.

"Since when are you a shrink?" Kade inquired with a grin, leaning forward in his seat. Haley innocently returned the expression.

"I've been a preschool teacher for nearly two years, Kade. One learns to understand children." As Kade sputtered in indignation Haley laughed again. "Kade, you big baby—you have yet to learn how to properly accept insults with the grace befitting a person of your age and social standing."

Kade's sour expression turned into something rather evocative. "Maybe you could teach me, babe?" he suggested with a waggle of his eyebrows.

"Don't call me 'babe'," she instructed firmly, though there was a glimmer of amusement present in her eyes. Kade grinned lecherously, though at another stern look from his girlfriend he relented and reclined in his chair again.

"Fine, Hale, but answer me this—did you ever think the 'bots were alive before the big reveal?"

Haley lifted a hand to her mouth in thought and brushed a lock of blonde hair from her cheek. "You know, I _might_ have suspected something was off. And it didn't help that Heatwave would catch your fingers in his doors all the time."

Kade winced, rubbing his hands as if the injuries had been recently inflicted. "He only did that on date nights when my truck was in the shop. You wouldn't _believe_ the glares I got afterward."

"Well that explains why you wouldn't come within a foot of me," Haley observed calmly, pointed mirth dancing behind her eyes. She was rewarded with a scarlet blush that spread upward from Kade's neck and up to his ears.

"You try getting comfortable with someone when you're sitting inside five tons of angry metal muscle," he muttered huffily, and Haley giggled.

"I'll do my best."

Something on the console pinged and began beeping in rapid succession, stopping Kade from answering.

"Kade?" Haley called her tone becoming solicitous when she saw her boyfriend's face pale. "Kade, is something wrong?"

He swallowed, Adams apple bobbing, and he typed in a code to stop the alarm. "Y-yeah, babe. Listen, I gotta go. I'll call you when I get back."

Haley bit her lip but nodded in understanding. "Be safe. And stop calling me 'babe'."

Kade gave her a strained laugh and ended the communication. With trembling hands that made him sneer at his own cowardliness, Kade thumbed the comm line that would connect him to his entire family.

"Team, we've got bogies incoming. Ten Cybertronian life signals heading out way."

* * *

Special Agent William Fowler woke with a snort, nearly falling out of his chair as his phone rang. Grumbling and groaning, he swung his legs off his nondescript, military-issued desk.

It was probably June calling, Fowler blearily acknowledged, fumbling for the telephone. The nurse had been checking in nearly twice a week since being reunited with her son, partly to see how he was holding up but mainly to ask if he'd had any luck in located 'the Big Guy'.

The federal agent finally wrenched his still-shrilly ringing phone from its cradle, mashing it sloppily against his ear.

"Fowler," he grunted. June was more than used to his lack of manners in the morning. Or, you know, midday.

"Agent Fowler?"

For many seconds Fowler was horribly confused by the baritone that answered before his sleep muddled brain came to a conclusion—June was not the caller. He quickly straightened in his seat and held the phone correctly, as if he and the owner of the voice were in the same room.

"Chief Burns?" he said, finally recognizing the deep voice on the other end. There was the sound of movement, and a multitude of distinctly panicked voices in the background battling for supremacy. Fowler's instincts flared.

"What happened? Is something wrong?"

The line crackled again and Charlie silenced someone on his end. "I'm afraid so, Agent Fowler," Charlie admitted, his voice alarmingly uncertain. "It's…well—"

Fowler felt his grip tighten around the plastic casing of the phone, threatening to crack. "What is it?"

A cool, crisp voice print replaced the chief's.

"I apologize for the interruption, Special Agent Fowler, but we have detected ten energon signatures rapidly approaching Griffin Rock. As of yet, we are still uncertain of whether or not they are hostile."

Fowler was grim. Chase was always a calm and collected 'Bot, and while his vocals were even and he spoke succinctly, there was a palpable tension underscoring his words that had the agent's stomach tying up in knots.

"Have you received any form of communication from them, Chase?" Fowler demanded, already throwing open a folder to reach through the file of every documented Decepticon they possessed. He no longer trusted computers to hold records anymore, not when they could be so easily hacked.

"None, sir," Chase replied smoothly. "Should we evacuate the island?"

Fowler leaned back in his seat, running a weary hand down his face. "You'll have to defer to Chief Burns for something like that. Chief?"

"I'm here," Charlie responded. "Do you have any idea of what we could be dealing with?"

Fowler exhaled heavily. "I could tell you who I _hope_ it is."

"Has there been any word?" Charlie asked, making his voice lower, as if silence would keep his family from hearing him.

"Nothing."

Charlie grunted exasperatedly. "Then I guess we can't count on it to be him," he muttered sardonically, and Fowler winced in sympathy. Communications with the Autobots had been down ever since the base's destruction, and it was only by Ratchet, Graham, Doc Greene, and Boulder's careful manipulation were they able to contact the remainder of Team Prime. All minus one, of course.

"I have the National Guard about twenty miles out," Fowler said, turning his chair to face the monitors against the walls of his office.

"Good," Charlie answered distractedly, and Fowler could faintly hear Chase's voice as he consulted his teammates. "We've got Cody, Frankie, and the townsfolk underground now. If things go south, they know to get to safety through the tunnels."

"Make sure nothing goes south, then," Fowler advised with forced humor. He received a strained chuckle from the other end.

"We'll do our best. Wish us luck, Fowler."

Charlie hung up before Fowler could respond, and the agent did not move for many seconds, still holding the phone to his ear. It took him some time before he could remove it, and even then he did not endeavor to return it to its cradle.

Fowler dug his fingers through his hair, bloodshot eyes scanning over the multitude of consoles lining the room facing him. There was nothing he could do here in his corner office.

But then his gaze caught a blip on one of his screens, and momentarily dispelling any recurring feeling of uselessness, he rose to check it out. To his utmost surprise and tentative hope, it was a response to his endless loop of the Universal Greeting.

_We come in peace._

Fowler felt a grin slide onto his face.

It looked like Chief Burns wouldn't need any luck after all.

* * *

"You made sure that this area was completely cleared out, right, Blades?" Charlie demanded from within Chase. The glowing dots on the police-bot's radar had not stopped drawing closer to the island.

"Triple-checked, sir," Blades declared swiftly, and it still amazed Charlie to hear the normally timid 'Bot sound controlled. He knew that it was due to protocol that had been ingrained into his CPU centuries ago, but it was nonetheless surprising to hear it.

A different, jauntier voice print replaced that of the helicopter-bot.

"Hey, cool it, Chief!" Jazz advised, as cheerful as ever despite the daunting circumstances. "We could still be dealin' with friendlies!"

"Forgive me if I disagree with you," Chase responded dryly, and Charlie patted the steering wheel apprehensively. If Chase was stressed enough to ditch his usual manners, there was definite reason to be concerned.

Heatwave caught the police-bot's change in tone as well. "Calm down, Chase. Even if it is 'Cons, we'll be ready for 'em."

_"Probably just Vehicons,"_ Bulkhead rumbled over the comm. _"Since there's nothing comin' at us from the air. Right, Wings?"_

"It's _Blades_," the helicopter-bot corrected adamantly.

_"Whatever. Can you see anything?"_

"Nothing," Blades informed him grudgingly. It was no secret that the ex-Wrecker was slow to trust anybot who flew. "They're traveling underwater," he continued.

Charlie regained control of the comm. line. "Bulkhead, how's your team handling things on your end?"

Bulkhead grunted. _"Can't say 'Bee and I appreciate guard duty, but things are alright. Ratchet's still swearing up a storm down in the bunker, though."_

Charlie nodded, even though he knew the Wrecker could not see him, and drummed his fingers against Chase's steering wheel. "Just make sure none of the kids are around if he starts throwing tools. What about Arcee and Smokescreen? Anything on the west side of the island?"

"_Patrol's come up clean so far. But you might wanna check in with Ratch_."

Charlie grimaced and stopped fidgeting. "Will do. Be sure to call if you detect anything on the home front."

Ending the call Charlie exhaled heavily, plowing a hand through his gray hair. He debated the pros and cons of putting off his call to Ratchet and contacting one of his children instead, but he knew nothing would come out of stalling. With a sympathetic hum from Chase, Charlie requested communication with the Autobot medic.

"_What_?" Ratchet snapped promptly, his sharp tone a welcome change from the slew of Cybertronian curses that served as his usual answer.

"Has there been any shift in the bogies' direction, Ratchet?" Charlie requested, and he caught the end of a grumble as the old 'Bot checked his sensors.

"_Energon detectors note no change, Chief Burns_," Ratchet informed him in his typical clipped tone. "_Estimated arrival time is five minutes_."

Charlie sighed again, making sure the rest of the team heard Ratchet's estimation. He could practically hear Boulder and Graham conjuring calculations as he spoke. "All right, thank you, Ratchet. Please inform us of any change."

Ratchet muttered something vague in response before terminating the connection. He was still displeased at being forced to remain in the bunker and monitor the proceedings from the Rescue Bots' command center, but there was nothing for it. He possessed the least combat experience, and it was prudent to keep a medic on hold in case things... ended badly. Ratchet did not have to be happy about it, however.

"Don't mind th' ol' Hatchet," Jazz suggested coolly. "He's just as wired as the rest o' us. Just never liked bein' cooped up."

"I know the feeling," Heatwave grumbled, to a warning growl from the sleek white Porsche to his right.

"You should cool down too, rookie. You' barely been training for real combat for a month. I wouldn't get too cocky."

If he were in bipedal mode Heatwave would have scowled, though he acknowledged rank enough to know to stay silent.

Blades suddenly came hurtling overhead, hovering anxiously over the crowd of gathered vehicles. "S-sir, there's some weird movement under the water!"

Charlie was quick to patch into Ratchet and ordered Blades to repeat what he said. "Ratchet, did you get that?" he barked, and heard the medic curse.

"_Some of them are breaking off from the group. Four—_frag_—_five_ of them, heading for the northern coast._"

"That is the direction of the woods, if I am not mistaken?" Chase said for confirmation. Charlie nodded, exhaling heavily.

"Yes, it is. Bulkhead, Bumblebee, call Arcee and Smokescreen and rendezvous on the north shore—I want you ready for these guys."

Bulkhead did not second guess Charlie's orders as he might have done when he first arrived—it helped that Jazz did not correct him either—but the ex-Wrecker had developed a healthy respect for the chief and answered in affirmative.

"Jazz," Charlie then said, "do we hold our ground? It's your call."

The sleek, white Porsche was silent for a klik, before suddenly transforming into a silver and black Autobot that stood roughly fifteen feet tall. Sharp optics flickered behind a cobalt visor and Jazz grinned brazenly.

"I'd like t' see 'em _try_ and move us."

* * *

"Jack? Jack, come in."

The tightening around Arcee's spark lessened as her partner's voice came through her comm.

"_I'm here, Arcee. Have you found anything?_"

Arcee exvented heatedly. "No. Whoever these fraggers are, they haven't tried contacting us."

"_So…Decepticons_?"

"Looks like it. A splinter group is advancing in on the north side of the island and Smokescreen and I are moving to intercept."

Jack hummed. "_Yeah, Bulkhead said the same thing._" The teen's voice dropped a few octaves and he continued in whisper, most likely to keep the others from overhearing. "_Do you think they'll come to the firehouse? I mean, we can probably get away in time, Cody knows the tunnels like the back of his hand apparently, but I can tell Mom and Doctor Greene are worried_."

"If they _are_ 'Cons, they wouldn't know about the firehouse," Arcee assured, immensely grateful that there was no need to sugarcoat this truth—the children _would_ be safe in the bunker. "You guys will be fine. But how's _Ratchet_ taking things?"

Jack snorted, and if Arcee were in bipedal mode she would have smiled at the youth in his voice that had been sorely lacking. "_Miko hasn't stopped bugging him,_" Jack said. _"She's been in the command center with him for the past half-hour, and he's blown up on her a bunch of times. Still, I bet he appreciates the company."_

"That's Ratchet for you," Arcee agreed. She slowed around a hairpin turn before doubling her speed on the incline. "Other than that, are you all holding up all right?"

"_Uh huh. Frankie made my mom some tea and she and Cody are trying to calm her down. Greene and Raf are talking about computer software or something. What about you guys_?"

Arcee turned her scanners on the sports car trailing several feet behind her, driving just above the speed limit that she was currently decimating. Smokescreen's usual chatter had been nearly nonexistent, but only since receiving news of the bogies.

"Well…some of us have been better," she finally said.

"_Do you want me to talk to Smoke when you get back?_" Jack asked seriously, and his unwavering belief that they would return at all was heartening.

"I'm going to see if I can get through to him." Arcee's comm link pinged. "Jack, we're getting close to the north side. Keep your phone on, and inform Ratchet."

"_Okay. Be careful, Arcee_."

"I always am," Arcee replied, allowing a modicum of warmth to enter her tone. She terminated the line and opened a new one. "Bulkhead, are you here yet?"

"_Almost there, Cee—thrity seconds, tops_!"

Arcee ended this communication as well, reverting to bipedal mode. Smokescreen followed suite, expression uncharacteristically grim as he prepped his blasters. They couldn't go anywhere just yet as their backup had yet to arrive, and Smokescreen rocked back on his heel struts impatiently as Arcee watched him out of the corner of her optics. Her vocals burned with the need to demand what had crawled up the rookie's tailpipe and died, but there was not enough time to give into her brusque nature.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the sound of a pair of engines reached them from down the road. Bulkhead and Bumblebee drove up and transformed, clearly agitated as they also emerged with guns blazing. Now that they were all together, Arcee contacted Ratchet.

"_You've all arrived?_" Ratchet demanded, skipping a customary greeting.

"Yeah, Ratchet," Arcee responded, and at the jerk of her helm, the group stepped through the tree line. "It's quiet so far. Anything on your end?"

_"Blasted human technology_," Ratchet muttered, and swore. "_Alright, the signatures are only a few hundred feet away. Can you hear _anything_? Decepticons are not usually known for traveling silently_."

Arcee motioned for the others to be quiet, and their whispering ceased at the same time they stopped moving. Stressing her audials to catch any close snippet of conversation, Arcee instead heard something much more disconcerting.

"Uh…I'm not the only one feeling that, right?" Bulkhead questioned uncertainly, as the ground began to shake repeatedly beneath them.

"_What_? What is it?" Ratchet pressed, though his order went unheard.

Bumblebee chirped in alarm as the quaking grew louder and stronger, growing nearer, almost like—

"Footsteps," Arcee whispered. She whirled around to face her teammates, optics hard and panicked. "Those are footsteps."

"Scrap," Bulkhead swore, and Bumblebee echoed him.

"What could it be?" Smokescreen asked, bypassing his shock and turning toward his superiors as the convoy advanced. The three other Autobots exchanged wary glances as they paused.

"It could be anything," Bulkhead muttered.

"_Ratchet said there were five life signals, didn't he_?" Bumblebee whirred worriedly.

"Bruticus?" Arcee asked incredulously, at the same time voicing what her teammates were thinking.

"Maybe," Bulkhead grunted, scanning the terrain.

Smokescreen glanced in the direction of the footsteps. "I've heard about Bruticus. He's a Combiner. How hard is it to take him down?"

Something appeared to finally snap within Arcee, and the femme spun on her heel strut and stalked up to Smokescreen, jabbing a slim digit into his chest plate. "Do you not understand what's happening?" she hissed, her words as quick and sharp as darts but her voice low to avoid attracting attention. "This isn't a game—what is it going to take to get that through your thick processor?"

"I know it's not a game!" Smokescreen countered at the same volume.

"You could have fooled me!" Arcee stopped herself, inhaling sharply through her intakes. "Smokescreen, I don't know what's wrong, but this isn't you. I'm not sure if it ever was. But we need you—Griffin Rock may be the only home we have left, with all our friends in the world living on it, and now it could be in danger. If we're not careful, we could lose them all. We don't…We don't have Optimus to set things right anymore."

"You think I don't know that?" Smokescreen retorted though gritted dentals. He loomed over Arcee's small frame, his trembling servos clenched at his sides.

Bulkhead rushed to separate them before it came to blows, Bumblebee holding Arcee back while the former planted himself in front of Smokescreen.

"That's_ enough_!" Bulkhead declared. "We don't have time for this. You can settle…_whatever_ this is, later. _Okay_?"

Smokescreen nodded stiffly, turning away to prep his gun, and Arcee mimicked him. The booming footsteps had not ceased their rhythm, although it was Bulkhead who led the group ahead now.

"Ratchet, what's your twenty on the 'Cons?"

"Now _you respond_," Ratchet complained distractedly, "_I was unsure if you were still online._"

"Online and kicking, Ratch," Bulkhead affirmed wryly. "Do you have anything on the 'Cons, 'cause we have somethin' _big_ coming at us."

"_A combiner_?" Ratchet intoned warily. There was a pause before he continued in slight bewilderment. "_I am still detecting five separate life signals_."

Bulkhead grunted as the dirt gave a forceful jerk. "Well the ground's shaking like a sparkling under enemy fire. "

The gears in Ratchet's throat grated together in a scoff. "_Are you insinuating_—" The medic cut himself off sharply.

Bulkhead paused, raising a servo for his comrades to stop as well.

"Ratch? Ratchet?"

In the silence, the Autobots realized that the footsteps had also stilled.

"_Bulkhead, the life signals have stopped only a few yards away,_" Ratchet said slowly, his voice tense. "_One of them has broken off from the group. He's coming your way._"

The Autobots swiftly moved into defensive positions in a semicircle, blasters trained on the surrounding trees.

"In what direction, Ratchet?" Arcee requested tersely.

"_He keeps moving, there's no way to get a fix on his position_," Ratchet muttered.

"Quiet!" Smokescreen whispered sharply. "There's no way he can move through these trees without making noise!"

Bumblebee buzzed an affirmative, and the others, though outranking the Praxian, did as they were told. Kliks passed without a sound other than the whirring of their systems.

"Oh my."

Arcee stiffened at the nonplussed tone of the unfamiliar voice at her back (how had she not heard his approach?) and swiveled to face the newcomer, her blaster charged.

A white mech around the same height as Bumblebee stared down the barrel of her gun in mild surprise. He made no move to attack her, but Arcee did not drop her guard or her gun.

"Who are you?" she barked, as her teammates belatedly realized that they were no longer alone.

The stranger made to answer, but the roar that was heard was not his own.

"_Deadlock_!" Bulkhead snarled, trading his blaster for his trademark battle mace. He shoved past Arcee and Smokescreen, wildly swinging his arm toward the bewildered stranger.

The white mech dodged Bulkhead's strikes with frightening ease, his expression falling into a troubled one.

"Please—" he ducked under Bulkhead's swing "—I—" he blocked the next blow with one of his swords "—don't go—" a leap back "—by—" the edge of Bulkhead's mace skimmed his chest plate "—that name—" he completed a flip to avoid a wider swing, landing in a crouch several feet away "—anymore", he finished, lifting his servos in surrender.

Bulkhead snorted. "Oh yeah? and you've changed sides too?"

"Yes."

Bumblebee and Smokescreen rushed to restrain Bulkhead, while Arcee turned on the ninja-bot. "Who are you?" she asked again, with more suspicion than before.

The white mech inclined his helm. "I _was_ known as Deadlock eons ago."

"I've heard the horror stories," Arcee nodded, her optics narrow. He winced.

"Yes, well, I am endeavoring to make amends for what I did in the past." He bowed deeply. "You may call me Drift."

"I'll call you whatever I fragging _like_!" Bulkhead seethed, and Bumblebee and Smokescreen struggled to hold him back. "Arcee, don't listen to him! Everything Deadlock ever says is a lie!"

Out of the corner of her optic, the femme caught a quick flash of emotion across Drift's otherwise neutral faceplate –guilt, she noted— and Arcee set the gears of her jaw. "Bulkhead," she began, leveling her gaze on the struggling Autobot, "you were the one just telling me to calm down. Now it's your turn."

"But he's—"

"S_ince he's not attacking us_—" Arcee interrupted, feeling Drift hovering behind her at a respectable distance "—we'll let him explain."

Bulkhead made to speak again, most likely to offer another argument, when the ground gave a tremendous jolt and an uprooted tree fell beside them with a crash, nearly landing on top of the former Wrecker. The culprits behind the sudden cacophony stood taller than the pines around them, the sun at their backs casting their features into shadow. Their identities were no mystery, however.

"We heard yelling," Grimlock announced shortly. "Everything OK?"

The Autobots all looked at Drift again, who tried not to wince. "Yes, Grimlock, everything is fine," Drift said carefully. "I have found Optimus Prime's team."

Swoop snickered. "We can see that. Hey, Grim, we're gonna patrol the rest of the island."

Grimlock acquiesced with a stiff nod, and the three Dinobots transformed and stomped off into the undergrowth. Grimlock then returned his bloodied gaze to the still-stunned Autobots.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Arcee finally had the sense to demand of him, though was more shock than anger in her tone.

"Scouting," Grimlock grunted. "Didn't want to scare the fleshies."

"Well you scared _us_ plenty," Bulkhead muttered, yanking his arms out of Bumblebee and Smokescreen's lingering hold. Grimlock ignored him in favor of Drift.

"So? Can we leave this mess of organic slag?" he questioned, jerking a servo toward the dense forest around them.

Drift's mouthplate quirked downward in the barest of frowns. "I was unable to complete my patrol due to the arrival of these Autobots, Grimlock." The ninja-bot turned to face Arcee and her teammates. "Would the native humans of this island panic upon seeing us? Or the Dinobots, in particular."

"What? Yes—no—what are you doing here?" Arcee sputtered. It was more than enough for an ex-Decepticon to arrive unannounced, but _Dinobots_? That was a bit much, even for her. Only adding to the multitude of confusion and annoyance she was suffering, Ratchet decided to contact them at that moment.

"_Arcee?! What is going on_?"

"We have Dinobots and an ex-'Con here, Ratchet," she barked. "Tell the guys on the shore that their bogies are probably Autobots too." She pointedly glanced Drift's way. "_Right_?"

Drift nodded

"_Autobots_?" Ratchet repeated, as if he did not dare believe it, but contacted the team by the docks as he spoke.

Arcee motioned for her teammates to begin exiting the woods. "Yeah. They must have finally gotten Optimus' message."

She heard a scoff, and looked back to find Grimlock appearing inexplicably amused.

"Have fun. I'm gonna meet up with my team."

Before Arcee could offer a word of protest—not that she was suicidal enough to even really _consider_ it—Grimlock was gone, plowing through the trees like they were nothing more than matchsticks as his massive pedefalls faded.

Her teammates were already on the road back into town, hopefully contacting Chief Burns' team on the way, and she turned to Drift.

"I will accompany you," he supplied, "to explain to the others what had happened. The remainder of my…team may be a while."

"I wasn't going to let you out of my sight anyway," Arcee muttered, transforming and racing out of the woods with Drift close behind.


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry for the wait! I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and I appreciate any and all feedback you might have for me.

Transformers and all its characters belong to Hasbro

* * *

:_Drift to Optimus. Optimus, do you copy?: _

Optimus drove past an algae-coated shipwreck as opened a private channel to receive the uplink. :_I am here, Drift. What is your status?:_

:_The Dinobots and I have reached Griffin Rock:_ the ninja-bot informed him coolly. :_W__e have begun our reconnaissance of the island. We are not alone, however.:_

Optimus felt his spark tighten in sudden concern though his vocals did not betray him. :_Decepticons?:_

He heard the rare smile in Drift's voice print as the ex-Neutral corrected him._ :No, sir. While few humans remain, the island seems to be mainly populated by Autobots. Your Autobots, in fact.:_

The pressure around Optimus' spark lessened dramatically, but worry still niggled at the forefront of his processor. :_Are all of them still living?: _he pressed.

Optimus had lost thousands of Autobots throughout the War for Cybertron, and he didn't even want to remember all of those he sent on missions he knew they would not return from. It was as harrowing a concept then as it was now. He had watched many of his soldiers perish before him, their names and faceplates imprinted into his memory banks to this day. However, the team he founded upon arriving on Earth had become more of a family than anything else. He did not wish to risk losing them as he had lost countless others.

Fortunately, Drift humored him and his new found paranoia.

_:As far as I can tell, they are all living. The one designated 'Arcee' is leading me to the rest of the Autobots, who thought we were approaching Decepticons by our radio silence. I have since corrected them, but my reputation precedes me. I advise you proceed with caution, sir.:_

Optimus could not keep the relief from his voice print now, and he thanked the ninja-bot.

_:They are waiting by the western shore, sir: _Drift continued. :I_t may be best to warn the others.:_

_:I agree, Drift:_ Optimus responded, suddenly all too aware of the bickering going on between the four Autobots behind him. :_We shall see you soon. Be sure to remain alert.:_

:_Very well, sir:_ Drift said, and terminated the connection. Almost instantly, Wheeljack opened his own line of communication with his commander.

:_What was that about, Prime_?: the Wrecker asked, observant as always.

Optimus expanded the connection to include the other Autobots before answering. :_Drift has just contacted me with information regarding his and the Dinobots' arrival in Griffin Rock.:_

:_Ooh, what'd he say_?:

:_Are there others? Cons?:_

:_Is Bulk alive_?:

The headlights of Ironhide's massive alt-mode flashed warningly in the murk. :_Shut it, you three. Optimus ain't done talkin_'.:

:_Thank you, Ironhide:_ Optimus said before continuing in his usual grave timbre. :_And yes, there is more of our kind upon the island. My team and others. The Decepticons have yet to locate them, or us.:_

A chorus of whoops and hollers reached Optimus across the open channel, and Ironhide's attempts at calming them now were rather half-sparked.

:_What does this mean, sir_?: Sideswipe asked as they rounded a coral bed.

_:Can we approach the island_?: Sunstreaker requested as well.

:Without_ scaring the fleshies_?: Ironhide pointed out.

Optimus was heartened by their concern. It had been some time since they had last been together, and yet working as a unit again had occurred almost seamlessly and to see such familiar faces after so long was amazing in the Prime's opinion. Had he been in bipedal mode, Optimus would have smiled.

_:The humans still residing on the island have been made aware of our existence and know that we mean them no harm. We may remain on Griffin Rock without disguises, although we still must tread carefully.:_

:_All right!:_ Sideswipe crowed, and both he and his twin fell back to speak excitedly in private. Wheeljack, however, left Ironhide's side and drove up to join the Prime.

:_So everything's peachy with the Rescue Bots_?:

:_How did you become aware of their existence_?: Optimus responded after a moment, surprise in his voice print.

:_Tapping into your outgoing transmissions isn't as hard you think. So? Can they handle the 'Cons that are sure to come down on their heads_?:

Optimus was quiet for many long moments, and Wheeljack snorted.

:_That bad_?:

:_The Rescue Bots have never participated in conflict against the Decepticons. It is natural for them to be unprepared_.:

:_Yeah, but can they learn_?: Wheeljack demanded, an edge of concern in his otherwise gruff voice. :_I don't want any liabilities around when the 'Cons do find us. We need fighters-:_

Optimus interrupted smoothly, and he needed only keep his tone firm for his voice to rise about that of Wheeljack's. :_And they will _learn_ to fight, Wheeljack. You must understand, I have only met the Rescue Bots and their human partners a few brief times, and they are immensely different form you and I. We have grown accustomed to war and death, no matter how much we may abhor it. We have watched fellow Cybertronians be cut down and been helpless to put an end to it. In the heat of battle, we have made choices that we have come to regret_.: The Prime's booming baritone became softer and more rueful. :_They possess an innocence I have never before witnessed in our kind. Within them is the strength to become the most dedicated of warriors, if properly cultivated_.:

:_You hold them in high esteem:_ Wheeljack observed grudgingly. :_But do they have what it takes to hold their own against Decepticons_?:

Optimus made a sound akin to a sigh. :_They are the last rescue force in existence. With enough training, I believe they could accomplish anything_.:

:_Prime: _Ironhide interrupted sharply. :_We're reaching land in sixty kliks_.:

:_I hope you're right about these Rescue Bots of yours:_ Wheeljack muttered as the seabed began turning into an incline.

* * *

Ratchet had gone a lifetime waiting.

Before the War, he was a scientist. During the Golden Age he'd worked to help create a better Cybertron, inventing new ways of healing and defense. He had been developing the first functioning GroundBridge since the time of the Ancients. There had been peace, joy, and prosperity. Then came the War. Suddenly, Ratchet was no longer searching for new ways to better his world. All Cybertronians trained in medicine and healing were asked to pick a side, Optimus Prime's or Megatron's. And then he was repairing the bots who were killing their planet instead.

Medics hardly engaged in combat, and when they did, they were sent to a unit each and forced to wade into battles they were never meant or trained for.

Most of the time, he was waiting.

Ratchet would wait for news from the front when he was elbow deep in the internals of some moaning Autobot recruit. He would wait for news when he cleaned up his station after so many lives lost and few saved, and only when Optimus himself came through the doors of his medical wing did he relax enough to forget he was still waiting.

When the war ended, Ratchet waited for death. Of the millions of Autobots who joined the fight in the beginning only a few hundred remained, and while they did have the _Ark_, it was only a matter of time before the Decepticons blasted them out of the sky.

In their base on Earth, Ratchet was forced to wait for reports from his team whenever they left on another suicide mission. He would never leave the central communications array for as long as they were gone, anxiously waiting in the empty silo, sometimes with the distraction of the children, other times without.

And now, in the bunker deep under Griffin Rock, Ratchet waited for contact from his team once again.

Ratchet swore a blue streak when he was unable to reach Bulkhead, Bumblebee, or even Arcee. The four of them had refused to answer his calls, likely wrapped up in their own turmoils. He did not wish to think the worst, but there was nothing for it. The last he had heard from Chief Burns, the Cybertronian signals had been drawing nearer to the docks, and Arcee, Bulkhead, Bumblebee, and Smokescreen had been confronted by a former Decepticon who said the ones approaching the island were Autobots.

He focused on the reconnaissance team heading for the west side of the island. Four life signals blinked reassuringly on the screen, the fifth unknown trailing behind them without a fraction symbol.

_Deadlock_, Ratchet recalled, thoughtfully tapping his digits on the console. The horror stories of the Decepticons' were limitless, and the sniper was no less of a legend. Bulkhead had only mentioned him once or twice in passing, as well as the multitudinous deaths he had caused and the Autobots he had tried to snuff. Ratchet vividly recalled the gruesome wounds he had tended to as a result of the Decepticon's acute aim. Deadlock disappeared long before the War had ended, and many thought him offline or a deserter. Apparently he was the latter and was now on Griffin Rock, along with the Dinobots. Ratchet could feel a processor ache coming on already.

"Hey, Docbot!"

And speaking of processor aches.

"What is it, Miko?" he snapped, and did not look away from the screen and the precious life signs it displayed. "I am very busy, and if you must bother someone, bother_ someone else_."

"Jeez, chill out, Ratch," Miko scoffed, closing the human-sized door behind her and further entered the Rescue Bots' command center. "You act like you don't wanna see me."

"I do not, and I certainly will not 'chill out'," Ratchet muttered coarsely, but when Miko stopped by his pedes he still picked her up and placed her gently on the console by his anxiously typing digits.

Miko was quiet for a few seconds, a record for her, and she observed the screen displaying her friends' life signals before speaking. "Anything new, Ratch?"

Ratchet vented heavily, mimicking a sigh. "Well the incoming Cybertronians split into two groups, one of which contained the Dinobots."

Miko blinked up at him before looking back at the screen, pointing to one of the corners of the displayed map where four signals were making a round of the island. "You mean those?" she asked.

"Yes."

Miko sank into a cross-legged position on the edge of the console, staring at the four life signals as if they were the most interesting things in the world. "What are the Dinobots?" she continued curiously.

"A fraction of Autobots formerly known as the Lightning Strike Coalition Force," Ratchet responded tersely, if only to get his processor off the danger his comrades might be in.

"That's a mouthful."

Ratchet continued as if he hadn't heard her. "During the war for Cybertron, the five of them were ambushed by Shockwave's Insecticons in the Sea of Rust."

"But there are only four now," Miko pointed out apprehensively.

"Yes, I'm getting to that," Ratchet said grimly. "Shockwave, it seems, had found a very far away planet with strange but powerful creatures living upon it. He wished to create creatures such as these himself, and found the Lightning Strike Coalition Force to be the perfect test subjects. Do you know what planet it was that Shockwave found so interesting?"

Miko swallowed. "E-Earth?"

"Precisely. And thus Shockwave completed his experiments. The team's leader, Grimlock, was the first to awaken. While he has become ten times as powerful, his mind suffered as a result. Anger triggers his transformation, and he completely loses control of himself when this happens. Though, there is often no need for him to even transform to win in battle."

"But what about the fifth Dinobot?" Miko protested, bracing her hands on her knees. "What happened to him?"

Ratchet nodded briefly, as if he had forgotten. "His designation was Sludge," the medic said simply. "He was never experimented on and was instead left to the Insecticons." He heard Miko gasp, and finally looked away from the screen. The girl's eyes were wide, horror written on her features at how callously Ratchet had explained the death of one of his fellows. The medic felt guilty for telling her story in the first place. "I am…sorry," Ratchet tried to amend after a while, running a weary servo down his faceplate. "So much has happened, one forgets how horrifying some things truly are."

"Were you scared when you first saw them?" Miko asked softly, uncharacteristically somber.

Ratchet chuckled briefly. "I was terrified. We all were. Never before had we seen anything like them."

Miko began to mimic his smile as she held her knees close to her chest. "Well they sound cool. They're coming here, right? Can I meet them?"

Any semblance of calm that had crept into the aged medic's faceplate was sucked out with that one statement. "You will _not_ be meeting the Dinobots, now or ever, not if _I_ have anything to say on the matter! They are dangerous, undisciplined, and insane. You would likely be stepped on before you could even introduce yourself!" Ratchet wheezed heatedly, abandoning his work to gesture irately at the air around him and toward Miko. Surprisingly, the girl did not appear upset by his tirade, or even the littlest bit annoyed. Instead, she looked up at Ratchet in amusement and pity.

"What?" Ratchet demanded of the girl.

Miko smiled briefly. "You look tired."

Ratchet scoffed, refusing to reveal the panic that blossomed within him upon her guileless statement. "I have been waiting a long time."

The teen's delicate eyebrows furrowed in perplexity. "Waiting for what?"

The medic made to answer, before stopping himself. What did he wait for? The revitalization of their planet, a new Golden Age, Optimus' improbable return, _death_? It had been so long that Ratchet had forgotten what exactly he waited for. "I…I do not know," he finally said, surprised by his own admittance, when the console pinged. Quickly turning away, he saw that he was receiving a communique from Arcee. He hurried to answer. "Arcee, what is—"

"_Ratchet!_" Arcee cut him off, soundly oddly breathless. "_It's him! He's here!"_

The medic could have sworn his spark stilled in its casing, and ignored Miko's wide-eyed gaze. He dare not hope, and as a result his response was choked. "W-who?"

"Optimus. _Optimus is alive_."

* * *

Optimus did not expect the reception he and his new Autobots received upon their arrival in Griffin Rock.

Yes, he had anticipated a party of his teammates waiting onshore; prepared to greet him and the fighting force he had amassed in his three-month absence. But as the first out of the ocean and onto dry land, Optimus Prime was thoroughly stunned to find not his team, but the Rescue Bots prepared for battle with weapons in their servos and their partners within them. Jazz was at their head, his own blasters online, but his lieutenant beamed as he watched them ascend from the waves.

What happened next could only be described as organized chaos. Weapons were sheathed, exclamations of surprise and joy were heard, and the groups melded together.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were pounced on by Jazz, who held the two in a headlock and gave a noogie to each—something he had likely inherited from the humans. The Rescue Bots surrounded Optimus, giving their thanks for his safe arrival while their partners complained about the anxiety and suspense they had gone through in good humor. They found it safer to stay inside, lest they be caught underfoot by an exuberant Autobot.

Optimus' team was the next to roar into the docks, braking and transforming with shock on their faceplates.

Bulkhead actually picked him up in a frame-crushing hug, momentarily dashing protocol, before doing the same to Wheeljack. Arcee, Bumblebee, and Smokescreen approached him with wonder and disbelief in their optics as they shook his servos, both good and bad, and Arcee contacted Ratchet to give him the news.

Drift trailed just behind Optimus's Autobots, a sheepish look on his usually taciturn features. "They didn't give me time to explain," the ex-Decepticon said as way of apology, and Optimus allowed a chuckle to escape his lips for the first time in centuries, because for the first time since arriving on Earth there was no pressure and no pain and they had time, resources, and soldiers to prepare a proper counterattack against the Decepticons.

Although, Optimus was not blind to the clear distrust still eminent among his ranks.

Wheeljack and Ironhide stood apart from the happily converging group, the former eyeing the Rescue Bots with faint uncertainty, not quite knowing what to make of them, while Ironhide kept his narrowed gaze firmly on Drift, who had been awkwardly introduced to the rescue team. Even when Jazz came over to greet the two, they remained alarmingly unaffected. Bulkhead was quick to notice the stiffness in which they stood, followed Ironhide's line of sight, and began muttering to both of them.

The Rescue Bots led them all back to the firehouse, the comm lines aflame and Optimus was all too content to sit back and listen to his Autobots try to bring each other up to speed and reestablish bonds.

Word had been sent ahead that all was well, and so humans began to fill the streets and reenter their homes, watching the procession of abstract vehicles with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Optimus made a note that he and Chief Burns would need to address their presence to the townsfolk before their fear of them became too great.

When they reached the firehouse Ratchet was already halfway out of the garage doors, Nurse Darby, Doctor Greene and the children around his heels. Almost immediately, the latter group dashed forward to meet their guardians, grateful for their safe return, and the Rescue Bots' partners were also helped out to appropriately introduce themselves to the new Autobots.

Optimus was privy to the reunion of Miko and Wheeljack, where the girl demanded to be picked up so she could hug him properly, and the gruff Wrecker allowed her to wrap her arms around his faceplate with a chuckle, just before his medic approached him.

The Prime steadied Ratchet with his supplanted limb, and once the quaking of his frame had ceased, the medic breathed, "You're here. You're really here."

Optimus clasped the ancient Autobot's servo within his own, rooting the both of them to their reality. Fate was a cruel mistress, as Optimus had heard the humans say. Life would continue to be difficult for them, and if they had any confidence in a future free of the Decepticons' tyranny, his Autobots must learn to trust one another, as both friends and comrades-in-arms. Optimus felt in his spark that it was possible to overcome these obstacles, proving that there _was_ hope left for a better future.

"I am here, old friend."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **_I don't know if there's anyone still reading this, but I just have to say how completely sorry I am that it took me so long to update this story. I've had this chapter typed up for weeks but never found the time to post it. I just put it through its final revision and can finally post it today. I will try my absolute best to update again soon, but I haven't even _begun_ the next chapter. _

_As always, Transformers Prime/Rescue Bots and its characters do not belong to me, and they never will. _

* * *

Cody had never seen so many Autobots in one room before. One would think that the noise in the bunker would be deafening, but the thirty-foot tall red and blue 'Bot at their head was more than capable of keeping them all composed.

He had been just as surprised and overjoyed as the others when Optimus Prime came to them online and more or less in one piece. After Ratchet's admittance of how their base had been abandoned with their commander inside Cody's hope for his return dwindled with every passing day, as he suspected it had for the Autobots as well. But the jubilation at his reappearance could only last so long before Optimus called both humans and Autobots to order.

There were sixteen Cybertronians altogether, and Cody heard that there were four more still roaming the island. Despite his joy at the presence of more Autobots, it was surprisingly disconcerting to find his and the Rescue Bots' space invaded with so many unfamiliar beings.

Cody's father and Doc Greene stood on one of the catwalks that had been installed around the bunker, far enough from the unfamiliar Autobots to observe them as a whole and hear Optimus speak at the same time. Frankie remained glued to her father's side, not by choice but out of the doctor's worry that his curious daughter would wander too close to the weapon-toting Autobots. Ms. Darby was contacting Agent Fowler through a secure comm. line in the Command Center with Raf's help, and Bumblebee looked rather despondent by his best friend's absence. The other children, Jack and Miko, accompanied their own partners. The former stood beside Arcee, looking up at the Prime with obvious relief in his features. Miko sat on Bulkhead's shoulder with the same bored look on her face that she sported whenever Boulder or Doc Greene sought to educate her on the science behind some new contraption or other.

Cody's siblings had left to calm the townsfolk after receiving a number of panicked calls over the emergency comm line. Many had worried that they were being invaded by the fearsome aliens that the news continued warning them about, and so Kade, Graham, and Dani had quickly departed before Huxley could do anything with the rumor, asking to be filled in on anything that happened while they were gone. Everyone else filed into the bunker so they wouldn't alarm the citizens of Griffin Rock with the sudden manifestation of sixteen gigantic robots standing outside the firehouse.

Cody himself was held in Blades' arms, the helicopter-bot almost using him as a shield against the stares of his fellow Cybertronians. The other Rescue Bots stood around them in varying states of agitation, and when Optimus gathered the room's attention, Cody felt Blades go rigid.

"Autobots," Optimus began, his rumbling tenor echoing slightly from the high ceiling, "Much time has passed since we were all together, and I have come to realize many of you have changed since we last met. We have lost comrades and gained others. The Great War has ended, and the Decepticons no longer threaten our planet. Now Earth is the one at risk from Megatron's wrath, and most importantly, its seven billion inhabitants.

"You cannot imagine how it relieves me to see you all, and I am honored that you would decide to fight alongside me once again." Optimus met most everyone's gaze before continuing. "I admit the circumstances of our war have changed. The Decepticons are many to our few, but we are strong and I believe that each of you will fight with the courage befitting ten Autobots." He seemed to falter for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "Especially with so much more at stake."

The Autobots exchanged uncertain glances at the catch in their commander's voice print, but it was one of Cody's family members who voiced their unease and broke the silence.

"Optimus," Charlie said as his dark brows furrowed in consternation, "what do you mean?"

The Prime's chassis rose and fell in the smallest of noticeable inhales, before intoning, "I have found a way to revitalize Cybertron."

A hush fell over them all once again, and Cody found that he'd suddenly lost the ability to breathe. In an instant every Autobot was jostling to be heard, their shouts reverberating from the ceiling, and in their faceplates Cody saw a dichotomy of hope and terror. The boy also noticed that the Autobots who came to the island with the Prime stayed silent upon their leader's announcement, their faceplates remaining prudently neutral as they moved aside to allow the others to say their piece.

Optimus lifted both servos to quiet them, and a sharp command silenced the Autobots. "Using the Forge of Solus Prime, I will be able to rebuild the Omega Lock and restore Cybertron. The only possible way for this to happen would be for us take on the Decepticons ourselves before Megatron has amassed himself a larger army, and use their Spacebridge to send us to Cybertron. While I understand that some of you may not wish to risk yourself for a planet that is not your own, I trust you will not be as cautious when it comes to the fate of _our_ planet."

Once again, a heavy silence fell upon the Autobots. Even Miko, who had been flipping through the photos on her phone, looked up with her mouth agape at the news. At a glance to the Rescue Bots, Cody found them as stonily silent as the others. Blades, ever one to be nervous, began to lightly run his thumb along Cody's back, succeeding in calming the boy somewhat, but not the 'bot.

"Sounds like a good plan to me! When are we leavin', I'm sure Megsy 'ill be happy to see me," Jazz suddenly commented, and he proved to be the antithesis to the Autobots' incredulity as a light swell of laughter rippling through the group, human and Cybertronian. Cody felt Blades' hold loosen significantly as the tension left him, although he noticed with some trepidation how Heatwave's features were still pinched in uncertainty.

"Thank you, Jazz," Optimus said, not without a small smile. "Although it may be still be some time before we mount our assault." The tension in room having dissipated, the Prime moved onto other matters. "The Dinobots have already expressed their wish to accompany us, if only in order to exact their revenge upon Shockwave, who is confirmed to have survived the Spacebridge explosion on Cybertron. They are currently running a perimeter check of the island."

"Dinobots?" Cody whispered, the name unfamiliar to him, though it did give a name to the four Cybertronians still accounted for, and he craned his head back to meet his friends' optics to ask for an explanation. The question was already on his lips when he noticed the Rescue Bots' expressions. They all appeared stricken at Optimus' statement, openly gaping with optics wide and Heatwave was quick to voice his discontent.

"The _Dinobots_, sir?"

His accusatory tone and volume carried all the way to the Prime, and the fire response robot instantly gained the room's attention. Heatwave appeared unconcerned by it, and Cody felt the small bit of uncertainty within him turn into a tightening vise around his heart when he read the genuine fear hidden behind Heatwave's ever-present anger and the trembling of his servos.

"With all due respect, Optimus, the Dinobots aren't to be trusted, least of all around the humans. From the dissertation you gave us, they're way too dangerous to even stay on the island."

Cody watched Heatwave stand tall against the stares he received from a few of the others Autobots as they sized him up (to the boy's surprising realization some of them even looked younger than the Rescue Bot, but who was he to guess how aliens aged). Optimus, at the anterior of the assemblage, lowered his head in acquiesce.

"I understand, Heatwave. The Dinobots will be kept as far from the humans as they will allow. As it is significantly more difficult for them to travel undetected, they will require a more secluded place of lodging as the firehouse is unacceptable."

"Ah, Optimus Prime, sir?" Doc Greene called from off to the side, temporarily releasing his daughter in order to take a step forward. "I would be happy to provide my laboratory building as a place for some of your Autobots to stay, in the confidence that they will not interfere with my work."

"The offer is greatly appreciated, Doctor Greene," Optimus said, and turned back to meet Heatwave's gaze, wordlessly requesting if the precautions would suffice. Heatwave nodded and backed down, and the proceedings continued.

Cody couldn't help but look on in worry as Optimus went on with his council. Looking from the Rescue Bots to the battle-honed Autobots around him, he could only wonder how his best friends would fare against the fabled Decepticons when the time for battle came.

* * *

Cody's siblings returned to the firehouse just as the impromptu meeting ended. The many Autobots dispersed, mostly at the urging of their human companions if they had any, their excited babbling disappearing as they took the lift to the ground floor. Only the Rescue Bots remained below, with Optimus speaking in private to Chief Burns, Doc Greene, Ms. Darby, and Agent Fowler via vidcom. Kade, Dani, and Graham, while miffed at being excluded, took the chance to get to know some of the newer arrivals.

The Rescue Bots carried Cody off to their corner of the bunker near the bookshelves and the boy cherished the silence as he had nothing else in the past weeks. The 'Bots spoke softly above him, but cradled in Blades' warm servos with the whirring of the helicopter-bot's systems beneath his ear, the noise was easily filtered out. It would only be a matter of time before his brothers and sister returned and would refuse to be left out of the metaphorical loop any longer, and Cody wouldn't have any peace for the remainder of the day. He would take what he could get.

As Cody finally drifted off to sleep, Blades released an intake that made his frame wilt. "Finally," he whispered in relief, despite the knowledge that Cody was a tremendously deep sleeper.

"He hasn't gotten much recharge, has he?" Boulder rumbled worriedly from the helicopter-bot's side as Blades gently shifted Cody into a more comfortable position.

"Approximately four to five hours a night, sometimes less," Chase said.

Heatwave folded his arms over his chassis with a growl. "And how would you know that? You got cameras hidden in the humans' rooms?"

Chase fixed his leader with an odd look. "I have no need for recording devices when Chief Burns regularly informs me on the goings on of his familial unit."

"Will you two stop arguing, you'll wake up Cody!" Blades hissed as the boy turned and mumbled something in his sleep. Heatwave and Chase avoided eye contact, shame drifting into the former's expression.

Seeking to clear the sudden tension in the air, Boulder unnecessarily cleared his throat. "So…things are going to be a lot different now, aren't they?"

"Indeed they are, Boulder."

The Rescue Bots started at the gravelly baritone that answered, and all but Blades snapped to attention, fearing any abrupt movement would wake the boy still sound asleep in his servos.

"Optimus," Heatwave said and his posture loosened. "How long have you been standing there, sir?"

"Not long, Heatwave," Optimus replied, stepping nearer to the small group. "I only just ended my call with Agent Fowler when I overheard you four speaking about your young friend." At this, the Prime's optical ridges furrowed slightly as he looked over at the preteen. "How _is_ Cody?"

"Cody Burns currently suffers from sleep and nutritional deficiency, sir," Chase said in his usual clipped tone, "likely stemming from a subconscious worry of Decepticon attack brought on by the arrival of so many Autobots to Griffin Rock."

Blades whimpered softly at Chase's ready delivery, holding Cody closer to his chassis as if to block out the police-bot's harsh prognosis. Boulder took a step forward, resting a servo on Chase's shoulder, likely staunching the recitation of ailments for each and every human and Rescue Bot. "We're worried about Cody," the construction-bot said simply.

"Yes, as you should be," Optimus said softly, and Boulder lowered his optics when the half-blind Prime looked his way. "These are uncertain times, and as such, we should all remain vigilant. I worry for the humans as well," he admitted, his gaze lingering on the boy a moment longer. "While far from defenseless, Megatron would destroy them on a whim given the chance. Defeating the Decepticons is all we can do to amount for the danger we have put them and their planet in." The Prime's optics sharpened, seeking out Heatwave's. "This is why I must inquire about your unit's combat training thus far."

Chase moved forward to answer, and likely list their many faults, but Heatwave beat him to it.

"We're doing alright, considering the circumstances," the fire-response robot hedged. "With Ratchet and Doc Greene's, albeit hesitant, help we were able to create our weapons but…we aren't all that comfortable with outfitting our systems for them just yet." Heatwave's gaze trailed meaningfully to the holsters that Rescue Bots all sported now, the handles of their blasters visible except for Blades', who had his gun stowed on a ledge on the other side of the room, as far from him as possible.

"I understand the transition must have been…difficult," Optimus said ruefully. The rescue force was never meant to take part in this war against the Decepticons, but there was no choice now.

Heatwave rolled his shoulders in the guise of nonchalance. "It's not so bad, Optimus. Boulder can actually hit a moving target now!"

The construction-bot in question smiled readily. "It was a day to be remembered, sir."

Optimus still appeared unconvinced, and Blades piped up. "Don't worry about us, sir. Change might be hard, but we'll do anything we can to protect our humans. They're kinda like our family now."

The Prime finally offered a small smile, though it was clear that the matter was far from abandoned. "I am happy to hear that, Blades. Now that our ranks have been significantly bolstered, your training—everyone's training, in fact—will be increasing considerably."

"We look forward to it, sir," Heatwave answered tiredly, ignoring Chase's mild glare at being exempt from the conversation. Optimus suddenly canted his head to the side as he received a message over his private comm. line.

"Is something wrong?" Chase asked quickly, before he could be silenced again.

Optimus shook his head. "No, Ratchet has only requested my presence in his laboratory. We will continue this another time, if Ratchet ever allows me to leave his care," the Prime finished in a rare show of humor, to the sympathetic chuckle of the Rescue Bots.

* * *

"I see that you have outfitted your this area to your specifications," Optimus said as he entered Ratchet's new lab. It possessed all the requisites of the old one and more, likely built with help from the more scientifically-minded inhabitants of the island.

"I made modifications as I saw fit," Ratchet responded, his back turned to the Prime as he busied himself with something Optimus couldn't see. Without turning, he pointed at an empty berth. "Sit."

Optimus complied with a small smile. "How have you been, old friend?" he began calmly, patiently waiting for the medic to pay him attention.

"Unchanged," Ratchet returned simply, and from his new angle Optimus could see that he was looking through a microscope. "The amount of aft-headed 'bots I've had to repair has been at a minimum, but with your new troops that seems subject to change."

Optimus nearly chuckled at his medic's familiar cynicism. "They are all good mechs, Ratchet. You cannot deny that you at least lamented their absence?"

"I could live without the Twins," Ratchet scoffed, flipping off the microscope light and removing the slide. "And the Dinobots," he added after a moment.

The Prime knew Ratchet was not genuine in his complaints, and thus only smiled as the aged Cybertronian puttered around his lab grumbling to himself. "What were you studying, Ratchet?" he requested as the medic glanced at his battered frame and went back to rummaging through his tools to find what would be needed for repairs.

"A sample of synthetic energon," Ratchet replied, finally walking over to the berth as he fiddled with his scanner, leaving his tools behind on the counter. "There is an abundance of scientists upon this island and many have been helpful in further stabilizing the formula. I believe it is almost ready for its intended use."

"That is relieving to hear," Optimus said as Ratchet scanned him. "Our reserves are running low once again, are they not?"

Ratchet nodded as he studied the results of the general scan. "Indeed. With so many additions to our team the synth-en will be necessary." He seemed to find his leader's vitals adequate as he closed his scanner and moved to stand in front of the seated Prime. Grabbing an ophthalmoscope from a nearby counter, he muttered, "Now let's see that optic."

Optimus lifted his head obligingly, and Ratchet flipped on the light and instructed for him to follow it. Only one optic obeyed, the other remaining motionless and gray beneath its lens. Ratchet moved the light again with the same response and turned it off with a small disappointed exvent.

"Who tended to your wounds, Optimus?" Ratchet asked, deploying his scanner again.

"Wheeljack possesses admirable talent in the area," he supplied, and Ratchet shuttered his optics.

"_Wheeljack_?" he repeated incredulously, though without malice. He trained his scanner on Optimus' faceplate. "I never would have guessed…"

Optimus made a thoughtful sound as Ratchet ran his second scan. "Apparently he was the Wreckers' medic when the need called for it."

The scan finished with a chirp and Ratchet turned to the monitor that displayed the results. He clicked his glossa disapprovingly. "Your optical nerve is severely damaged." He looked back at Optimus. "Did this happen when Megatron invaded the base?"

"There was no invasion, Ratchet," Optimus corrected, his tone and posture suddenly speaking volumes of his exhaustion. "Rather, the Decepticons completely obliterated Omega One. I was caught in the resulting explosion. It was how I lost my limb and my vision."

"I-it's gone?" Ratchet whispered, a servo planted on the counter to keep his suddenly frail frame upright. They both knew that Autobot Outpost Omega One had been more than just their base. It was a symbol of them, their perseverance and will to go on with a bloody feud that had already transcended eons and taken billions of lives in the process. And now with its destruction, they had retreated to the far reaches of the nation while the Decepticons celebrated in their new fortress.

Optimus reached for the medic with his good hand, the servo catching Ratchet's wrist. "We must not entrench ourselves in the past, Ratchet. Our focus must be on the present." He gently released the older Cybertronian. "Now please, complete your diagnostic."

Ratchet offlined his optics for a klik, nodding whilst he did so. "Yes, of course." His own, more vulnerable tone took on a familiar crass infliction. "Well your nerve is fried to the Pit," he snapped, and while the complete 180 in temperament might've had some bots' logic circuits doing cartwheels, Optimus was more than used to it. "Not only did many of the more sensitive wires fuse together, it seems bits of shrapnel were also imbedded in the nerve, though they seem to have been removed… courtesy of Wheeljack?"

Optimus nodded, the familiarity of Ratchet listing his wounds and subsequently chastising him for them a comforting familiarity. "We were both…worse for wear at the time and repaired ourselves with what we could before locating the others."

"How did you do that, by the way?" Ratchet questioned as he scrutinized the scan of his leader's optical nerve more closely, a frown tugging at his lips.

"We utilized the _Ark_ as transport," Optimus replied, noting how Ratchet's shoulder guards jumped in surprise. "We were cautious with our energon expenditure, and managed to locate our new teammates with relative ease. Although, the Dinobots were fortunate to have found _us_—" Optimus cut himself off with a wince when Ratchet suddenly swooped down on him and jabbed a needle into a main energon vein in his neck cables, injecting the clear liquid before Ratchet turned back to the counter as if nothing happened.

With a small exvent Optimus rubbed the newly tender area of his throat. "Ratchet—"

"Ah ah ah," the medic interrupted, whirling around to face Optimus again with his scanner out, the blue light trailing over Optimus' replaced limb. "Don't move, you'll interfere with the scan."

Optimus relented until Ratchet completed his third scan.

"Was that necessary?" he said as Ratchet looked over the readout. Notable fatigue had already begun to infiltrate his vocals.

"Indeed," Ratchet affirmed, not even bothering to deny. "Knowing you, Optimus, you haven't received nearly as much recharge as you should have, and I would rather not have to drag your sorry frame back here when you fall into stasis lock. And you'd never agree to medically induced stasis…" He lifted a servo to his chin as he squinted over the reports onscreen. "Hm. I might be able to reconstruct your original servo, with Doctor Greene's assistance…"

"Thank you for your concern, old friend," Optimus said, his posture beginning to sag, "though I cannot say I approve of your less than honorable methods."

Ratchet flippantly waved the Prime's concern away, his backstrut still to Optimus. "Yes, yes. Get some rest, Optimus. I will see to the replacement of your limb when you wake."

Optimus was hesitant to waste any amount of time, even for recharge, but the pull of the drugged and distilled energon Ratchet used was too strong. Gradually lowering himself onto the berth, Optimus exvented heavily. "Ratchet," he mumbled after several moments, startling the medic. Most mechs would have been dragged under by now, but this was _Optimus_ so he shouldn't have even been surprised by his leader's admirable if foolish resistance.

"Yes, Optimus?" he responded, facing the inert Prime.

Optimus was on the verge of slipping into recharge, his optics shuttering slowly, but his velvet timbre was the same, if drowsier than usual. "What…is your opinion on the Autobots who accompanied me here?"

"They are all good bots," Ratchet responded warily, uncertain of the Prime's non sequitur. When Optimus still lingered, the medic raised an optical ridge. "Did you mean one of them in particular?"

Optimus cycled a shaky exvent, struggling to remain online. "Drift…"

Ratchet nodded in understanding. "I haven't much information on him as a solider though his silence is a welcome change." He was quiet for a breem, watching Optimus lose his battle against the beckon of a power down. Ratchet hesitated, but the question that had nagged at the back of his processor since Arcee had contacted him about the appearance of the most recent additions rose unbidden. "Do…do you know who Drift is? Was?"

Optimus did not answer for many kliks, and Ratchet wondered if he had slipped into recharge, before he faintly heard the labored answer leave his Prime's lips. "Former Decepticon…Deadlock…."

Optimus finally succumbed to his exhaustion, his cycles evening out and his fans nearly silencing. Ratchet left him to power down, organizing his laboratory as the evening's developments buzzing around his processor.

* * *

"'Play nice', he said. _That's_ what he told us to do," Wheeljack scoffed, irately kicking one of the Burns' dumpsters and sent it flying into the bushes behind the firehouse. The Wrecker grunted, pressing the heel of his palms against his optics in a surprisingly human example of frustration, as if to block out the deceptively perfect blueness of the sky. "Is there anything to do here, Bulk?" he demanded of the green behemoth advancing upon him, and both he and the girl on his shoulder chuckled.

"You just got here, Jackie. Give this place a chance." Bulkhead looked skyward as well, though he wasn't expecting a Decepticon air raid like Wheeljack was. "It's nice here. Calm down."

Wheeljack only rolled his optics, studying the terrain and brightly colored human structures across the street. "Yeah, Bulk, 'cause calm and me go together so well."

"You could go up to the Griffin Rock Lab," Miko suggested, and when Wheeljack turned his attention to her she elaborated. "Doc Greene is GR's resident Ratchet. The stuff he makes, when it doesn't blow up or try to kill you, is pretty cool!"

Wheeljack grunted again, more thoughtfully this time it was. "He doesn't sound so bad," Wheeljack considered, and as he spaced out again Bulkhead's optic flickered toward his charge.

"As a matter of fact, what're _you_ doin' here, Miko? I thought you'd be hanging around the new 'bots for the next couple days."

Miko shrugged, though the noncommittal gesture was belied by her grin. "I figured I should give 'em some time to get used to Griffin Rock and being around the others before _I_ get acquainted with them." She swung her legs with a smile that had abruptly turned mischievous. "What do you know about the Twins, by the way? Ratchet looked _particularly_ happy to see them."

Bulkhead groaned, though he did so with a grin and he playfully jostled the girl perched on his shoulder. "You three would be perfect for each other. I feel bad for Ratch already."

"_Hey_!" Miko cried in mock affront, making a show of pushing her friend's faceplate away. "You're one to talk!"

"_I_ wasn't the one who welded the Doc's wrenches together."

"They're perfect!" Miko declared, unbridled enthusiasm in her honey-colored eyes, and the pair dissolved into snickers.

"What do you think of the ninja-bot? Drift?" Wheeljack said suddenly, his back to them, and Bulkhead clammed up almost instantly.

"He seems okay…" Miko began uncertainly upon noticing her friend's darkening features.

Something like a growl emitted from the ex-Wrecker's throat and he crossed his arms. "He's a slippery petro-rat, and we shouldn't trust him."

Miko blinked at her guardian's damning tone. "Wow, Bulk. Harsh much?"

"He's right not to trust him," Ironhide interrupted, ambling over from the garage.

"And why's that?" Miko questioned belittlingly as the crimson mech reached them. Ironhide was a good deal taller than Bulkhead, and his icy blue optics pinned her like a bug, the pinpoints of light severe in his heavily scarred faceplate. When the girl didn't even flinch, Ironhide went on.

"He's a Decepticon," Ironhide said, relenting slightly, "or was." He gestured toward Bulkhead. "He looked familiar before, but then you brought it up. My memory banks aren't what they used to be."

Wheeljack didn't seem surprised by the news, truthfully he didn't even show any sign of hearing them other than the slight twitch of his door wings giving him away. Miko, however, went ballistic.

"A '_Con_?! _Optimus_ brought a '_Con_ here?" she demanded, grabbing the side of Bulkhead's faceplate and audial finial to pull herself up without falling.

"Idle your engine, kid, Optimus wouldn't take such a risk if he thought Drift was dangerous," Ironhide interrupted, put Miko was unappeased.

"What if Optimus doesn't know? We could all be in danger! That 'Con could be thinking of ways report to Megatron about our position right now!" By now, Bulkhead had begun to cover his charge with a servo, as if to muffle her complaints or hide her from Ironhide's glacial gaze. Either way his attempts were unsuccessful as Miko simply spoke over his servo and used his wide digits to pull herself up. Bulkhead noticed how Ironhide seemed to flinch as he raised his arm to stifle the girl, almost like the veteran thought he was about to backhand him, but Bulkhead quickly put it at the back of his processor as Miko attempted to crawl over his servo and continue her tirade.

Thankfully, they were saved from a verbal spar when Wheeljack spoke up. "Grimlock called him a traitor," he said almost mildly, and both Miko and Bulkhead looked to him in surprise.

Ironhide grunted in a remarkably Wheeljack-like way. "Technically no. Since he's only been an Autobot since Prime recruited him. Beats me how he got the tech to _receive_ Prime message… The only bots Drift ever betrayed were the Decepticons." He leveled his biting gaze on Miko and then the two Autobots. "And we might be next. So stay sharp, and don't turn your backs on 'im."

"Aye, aye, cap'n," Wheeljack drawled, though, unlike most 'bots who were commonly inclined to introduce Wheeljack's face to their fists, Ironhide only rolled his optics at his subordinate's mocking.

"You two scrapheaps can amuse yourselves here while I go on patrol."

Bulkhead's optical ridges furrowed at the older Cybertronian's statement. "But most of the team's already—" He was unable to continue as Ironhide folded down into an impressive garnet truck, its revving engine drowning out the rest of Bulkhead's sentence. As Ironhide disappeared into the fringe of pine trees behind the firehouse, Bulkhead cast a raised optical ridge in Wheeljack's direction. "Makin' friends, Jackie?"

Wheeljack snorted. "Hardly." He canted his head toward the girl on Bulkhead's shoulder, clearly still riled by the veteran's announcement. "What're you so worried about, Miko? Ol' 'Hide's gone."

Miko clearly would have burst into another ill-timed rant if it were not for the more relaxed postures of her guardians. Grudgingly admitting there was no immediate danger, she sat back down with a huff. "Well _excuse_ me for being the least bit concerned about the Decepticon playing house in the bunker."

"_Ex_- Decepticon and I are pretty sure Drift went to round up the Dinobots," Wheeljack corrected absently.

"_Whatever_," Miko stressed, before eyeing the Wrecker oddly. "By the way, why aren't _you_ gunning for him?"

When Wheeljack remained silent, Bulkhead caught Miko's trail of thought. "She's right Jackie," he said, taking a few steps closer to his friend. "I woulda thought you'd be the last 'bot to willingly go along with an ex-Con. And you're officially part of Team Prime? What's up with that?"

Wheeljack shrugged, still looking over the town. "Eh, things change, Bulk. And I'm pretty sure I'm needed here…at least for the time being." A familiar smirk slid onto his faceplate. "As soon as the 'Cons are scrap, I'll be off to the stars."

"But what about Drift?" Bulkhead persisted, moving to stand in front of Wheeljack. "You traveled here with him. Can he be trusted? Around the children?"

Wheeljack turned away from his cloud-watching to look his friend in the optics. "I'm not too sure, Bulk," he admitted, allowing his gaze to linger on the anxious expression of the human on Bulkhead's shoulder. "Drift hasn't done anything too incriminating, besides being quieter than Soundwave, but who knows? We'll have to be careful, like 'Hide said." His smile became easier and levity settled as he casually popped a gear in his backstrut with a stretch. "Now c'mon, let's check out this island for ourselves."

"But half the team's already on patrol!" Bulkhead snorted incredulously, Wheeljack transforming despite his complaint.

"We're not goin' on patrol," Wheeljack corrected with deliberate slowness, as if he were speaking to a sparkling, "we're doin' a little…sightseeing."

Bulkhead groaned as memories of Wheeljack's past "sightseeing" expeditions filtered through his processor, mainly composed of extraordinary explosions, shrapnel in his backside, and a few dozen furious Decepticons on their tail while Wheeljack cackled like a madman. But Miko looked so elated at the prospect and he knew he couldn't keep her cooped up at the firehouse for much longer, at the same time thankful for the distraction Wheeljack had provided.

The ex-Wrecker transformed grudgingly, and as soon as Miko hopped into the front seat Wheeljack gunned his engine. Bulkhead followed, and was sure to give him directions for the nearest off-road route before Chase came tearing after them with sirens blazing to reprimand the both of them about speed limits and the proper pathways to be taken by motor vehicles.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

**A/N: **_An update at last! In this chapter we get a look into Drift's backstory and Frankie gets to know some of the Autobots. __  
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_On an unrelated note, for those who've read my story _Handicap, _how would you feel about a second chapter? __  
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_If you read, please leave a review! I love hearing from all of you. _

* * *

For the few Autobots leaving the firehouse for the Griffin Rock Lab, graciously provided by Doc Greene, the transition was a relatively easy one. The Dinobots couldn't have cared less where they bunked, so long as they were given their own warehouse in which to crash and plenty of space to let loose without sentient life to harm. Ratchet took decidedly longer to move, as the relocation of his various instruments had to be done with extreme care and under his strict supervision through the tunnels beneath the firehouse the led right to the Lab's front door. A downside of the move was that Ratchet would be farther from his team but at the same time would have double the amount of room to work as he did in their original base.

To Ratchet's chagrin the twins, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, would be joining him at the cliff side laboratory under strict orders from Optimus not to bother the medic while he worked or enter his medbay without permission. Ratchet liked to think that this was the Prime's way of punishing him for forcing him into stasis the week previous.

Ironhide was the last to join the Autobots at the Lab. He was to keep the Dinobots and the twins in line and away from any potentially dangerous equipment, of which Doc Greene possessed more than plenty.

The firehouse remained packed, which was nothing new, but for Frankie, who'd never lived with anyone but her father (and her mother for a short time); it was something to get used to. Seeing the Autobots every other day was astounding, but to have _eight_ living under her roof was nothing short of incredible. There were living, breathing (sort of)_ alien robots_ only a couple hundred feet away from the principle lab building. And what's more, her father had bestowed upon her "breakfast duty", in which she delivered the Autobots' daily dose of energon. Doc Greene and Ratchet were currently still working on the synthetic energon formula, their reserves of natural energon dwindling quickly, but a breakthrough was promised soon. And Frankie did love her job.

She delivered the Dinobots' energon along with Ratchet's under his strict and frequent instruction. Frankie was not to go anywhere _near_ the Dinobots or their barracks. Ratchet would take their rations to them, and that was that. The only glimpse she'd ever caught of them was from one of the Lab's domed towers as they entered and exited the bunker that formerly hosted the time machine. She wanted so badly to meet them but even her father had put his foot down. And so she delivered energon to the _other_ occupants of the Lab.

Now on her final round, Frankie pushed the hover cart containing the energon rations through the human sized door in the warehouse housing three of the eight Autobots. Berths were already set up against the walls leaving the center of the warehouse empty save for a few leftover crates.

Ironhide was the first she spotted, looming over the entrance and examining his cannons. He sported that faraway look she recognized in the optics of some of the older bots but didn't completely comprehend.

Frankie cleared her throat to gain his attention. Despite her appreciation of having them so close, she was still unsure how to behave around the Cybertronians. After living with mindless machines for the entirety of her life adjusting to sentient robots not only existing but living on the same island as her was a massive change to accustom to. And so if she was left no other choice but to reign in her smart-aleck attitude for the sake of information (_and not out of fear, of course not)_ then so be it.

Ironhide glanced down at her and she gestured to the three canisters of energon that were left.

"Your rations for today," Frankie said, and bent over the handlebar of the cart to pull up the canister that was bigger than the rest. Ironhide helped her out by plucking it out of her hands and administering it to himself. Once Ratchet and her father had perfected the synthetic energon formula a fueling station would be set up for the Autobots at every base/recharge area. Frankie wouldn't need to cart around energon canisters for much longer.

"Thanks, kid," he grunted, and Frankie smiled up at his scarred visage.

"You're welcome. And my dad said that the washracks outside have all been fixed, in case anyone here goes joyriding after another rainstorm again."

"Ah think yer referrin' t' those Wrecker punks, Franny," said Ironhide in that odd, almost southern accent of his as she shoved off in the direction of the other Autobot in the warehouse, once more refusing to call her by her proper nickname. "They track so much mud they a'most got Prime fritzed."

Frankie smiled genuinely as she reached the yellow Autobot. She liked Ironhide, even if his gruff attitude and appearance frightened her enough to make her wary of him.

"Sunstreaker, I've got your rations," Frankie said. She pulled the cart to a stop next to the crate the Autobot sat upon polishing one of the blades that extended from his forearms. Like his twin and most of the Autobots Frankie didn't know what to make of Sunstreaker. A lazy arrogance about him, he hardly spoke, and when he did it was to dish out criticism and sharp remarks about his teammates, humanity as a whole, or the Earth itself. So very unlike Sideswipe, who cracked jokes at the expense of himself and others and was the only one who got away with calling Sunstreaker "Sunny" or any variation of the name. And speaking of Sideswipe…

"Where's your brother?" she asked, proud of herself for keeping the tremor from her voice.

Sunstreaker ran a discarded rag down his blade one more time before he lifted his arm to examine it in the shine of the overhead lights, the glint off the razor edge nearly making Frankie swallow her question.

"'Sides isn't here," Sunstreaker said, taking his share of energon from the cart without looking away. A shadow fell across his normally bored faceplate. "He's at Cliffjumper's service."

Frankie blinked. "Who's Cliffjumper?"

* * *

"Th' three o' us are gathered here today t', well, immortalize th' life o' a friend," Jazz began, his voice heavy with grief that few were given the chance to glimpse. "A warrior, Autobot, partner—if nothin' else he _was_ our friend."

Jazz, Sideswipe, and Arcee stood in a small, loose circle around a pile of stones. It was the best they could do, and all they wanted to. The commander glanced down at the memorial for a quick second.

"Cliffjumper was a friend t' us an' every Autobot. An' I know that this ain't a proper ceremony, but this slagger's name will live on 'til a restored Cybertron is under our pedes, an' even after that." Jazz looked up at the two Cybertronians in front of him. "Cliff, we might not have been there with ya' when you joined th' rest o' our teammates in the Well, but we'll join ya eventually. An' drag Starscream, kickin' an' screamin', along with us."

"And preferably mount 'Screamer's head a stick before we get there," Sideswipe quipped darkly, getting a smirk out of Arcee and a laugh from Jazz.

Still smiling, though the corners of his mouth began to curl downward, Jazz bent down on one knee to gently lay a hand on the stone pile.

"Stay cool, man," he said. "We'll see ya real soon."

Frankie, watching the proceedings from atop a ridge overlooking the Autobots, sat in stunned silence. So strong was her concentration that she didn't have a hope of noticing the white-armored Cybertronian approaching her until it was too late.

"It isn't polite to spy on people, Miss Greene."

Frankie's heart leapt into her throat and she gasped as she spun to face the intruder.

Drift crouched only a few feet away from her, looking over her head to see the ceremony occurring two dozen feet below them. Frankie quickly rubbed her face free of any evidence of tears and narrowed her eyes.

"And what exactly are _you_ doing?"

"Keeping an eye on you," Drift answered almost leisurely, apparently unconcerned by the glare, fueled by embarrassment, that Frankie leveled him with. Drift was another Autobot who Frankie was unsure how to behave around. He wasn't strict like Chase or aggressive like Heatwave and Ironhide and so many others, and his presence didn't fill the room or lift anyone's spirits as Optimus's and Jazz's did. He was strangely passive and very quiet, and quiet was something Frankie wasn't used to. Plus, she had recently received some rather disturbing news about him.

"Do you know why they chose not to create a gravestone for their friend?" Drift asked her abruptly, and Frankie started. It was out of character for this particular Autobot to initiate conversation.

Frankie shook her head in answer, glancing back at the trio and the small configuration of stones between them. "Not really, no. Dad could've easily made one that was big enough."

Drift was silent again for many moments, but just as Frankie turned to look back at him he responded, "While they honor his death on Earth, they will not memorialize his name until they're back on Cybertron, the place of our creation. I imagine that all our dead will be honored there." That faraway look that Ironhide often sported had seeped into Drift's expression, making his azure optics seem very sad in comparison to his schooled expression.

Frankie paused before softly saying, "Miko told me that you used to be a Decepticon."

"Did she now?" Drift commented, and the sad, faraway look disappeared as quickly as it had come. He began examining a tiny yellow flower by his right pede.

"Yes," Frankie answered, and felt her stomach churn. Miko and Bulkhead were explicit in their descriptions of the Decepticons and what they'd done during the war and after; entire cities decimated in a matter of hours, the massacre of younglings, the genocide of neutral parties, the list went on and on. She didn't want this sad, quiet 'Bot to be one of them. Frankie swallowed and felt her gaze drift to the crimson calligraphy symbols painted on the armor over each shoulder. "Is it true?"

Drift bowed his head, his deceptive azure optics disappearing from view. Frankie wondered why he felt the need to hide from the gaze of a mere human child.

"In war….things change," Drift murmured. "People change."

Frankie couldn't find anything to say, only staring at the ninja-bot and wondering what changed _him_.

Without warning Drift stood, his head slightly canted to the side.

"Your father requests your presence for breakfast in fifteen minutes, Miss Greene," Drift said sharply. He looked past her, to the stone memorial that only Jazz stood by now. He bowed in its direction before turning around and slipping into the woods with hardly a sound.

Frankie stared after him for longer than she'd care to remember. It wasn't long before another familiar voice spoke up from below her.

"Yo, Franny, ya' stayin' up there long?"

Though this time she started only slightly, Frankie's face burned in shame at being caught looking in on the clearly private and personal ceremony. Jazz responded with the wide smile that never seemed to leave his faceplates.

"Hey, it's cool. Can't fault ya' for being curious." Jazz looked back toward the trees Drift had disappeared through. "And don't worry about him. He'll be fine."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Frankie muttered, standing up and brushing dirt from her clothes.

"I hear ya," Jazz agreed, offering his servo. Frankie looked over the edge of the outcrop and worriedly calculated the amount of space between it and Jazz's hand. But Optimus's second-in-command didn't look apprehensive in the slightest and that bolstered her resolve.

Frankie dropped through the eleven and a half feet of air with a cry, landing painlessly in Jazz's cupped servos. She exhaled wearily and said, "That wasn't so bad."

Jazz grinned down at her and allowed her to find a more comfortable position before he began walking back to the Lab. "Has anyone ever told ya' 'bout a 'Bot named Cliffjumper?" he asked her eagerly.

* * *

Arcee followed the winding dirt road down from Griffin Rock Lab with a final goodbye to her charge over her comm. As the dense trees of the forest became more prominent she quickly contacted Ironhide for the information regarding the Dinobots' whereabouts. To her luck, they were on the other side of the island, decimating the flora and fauna on a training run. She thanked Primus for her good fortune as she drove deeper and deeper into the woods. The Dinobots, and in particular Grimlock, were often apt to listen to Ironhide, Ratchet, and _sometimes_ Optimus, but anyone else would likely be torn limb from limb if they tried telling them what to do, as she overheard Drift had learned firsthand.

Speaking of the ninja-bot, Arcee transformed and stepped off the road. The sky was sunny and blue as usual but thanks to the Rescue Bots careful weather watching she knew a strong storm loomed. Her sensors detected an Autobot presence nearby, and she began navigating around trees to locate it.

Arcee heard the sound of a sword slicing air before finding its owner, although she soon spotted the ghostly white chassis dancing amongst the pine trees as she drew nearer.

As she got closer, Arcee observed the ninja-bot's fighting stance more closely. While it strongly resembled circuit-su, and even metallikato, it was clearly something different to an actual practitioner. The movements were slower, though perhaps that was intentional, with more of flair between each stance. Whatever it was, Drift practiced a deadly dance. No wonder Optimus said he wouldn't need the extra training.

Arcee cleared her throat to gain the ninja-bot's attention as he was halfway through a movement. Moving faster than she keep track of, Drift had his sword centimeters from a main vein in her throat. A sparkbeat passed before recognition replaced the disconcerting blankness clouding his optics and Drift lowered his sword.

"Sorry," he said, sheathing his swords, "I don't like people sneaking up on me."

Arcee resisted the urge to rub the cords of her throat. "You seem to have no problem doing it to everyone else."

Drift smirked, though it vanished quickly. "Touché."

"What was that anyway?" Arcee asked her servos akimbo. "Not circuit-su."

The ninja-bot shook his head. "_Ninjitsu_, actually." At Arcee's look, he glanced away. "Just something I picked up over the years." Drift was quiet for several kliks before he said, "Is there a reason you came looking for me, Arcee?"

Arcee started slightly but nodded. "Yeah, actually. Optimus is taking everyone off-island for a training mission. Only Ratchet and Ironhide are staying since they both have more "pressing" matters to deal with. The human portion of the rescue team is making do with their normal vehicles."

One of Drift's optical ridges rose. "And what does this have to do with me?"

Arcee smiled none-to-kindly. "Well, June is calling in a favor. She needs you to watch the kids while everyone's out."

The cycle-bot observed bemusedly as panic and elation battled for control on Drift's faceplate before being replaced with his usual aloofness.

"Why can't Nurse Darby do this?" he replied.

"Hospital's been short-staffed. She's helping out."

Drift didn't speak for a moment more before he nodded in acquiesce. "Very well. I will head out now. You may want to do the same; they will likely be waiting for you."

"You should hurry," Arcee called after him as he transformed and headed for the main road. "They want to go to the river, and you'll want to go and come back before the storm comes in!"

* * *

The ride to the river was an eventful one to be sure. All five children fit inside his vehicle mode, and their inflatable items fit in his trunk, but actually getting the children inside proved difficult.

Miko was the most challenging, refusing to ride inside an "ex-Con" to the displeasure of the others. Drift made no attempt to mollify her and it was only after Cody firmly but gently told her that there was no other way to get to the river besides driving that she relented. Their arguing reminded Drift of his own children.

The five of them talked amongst themselves the whole way there, though Cody helpfully provided directions whenever he came to a fork in the road. As soon as they arrived the children disembarked quickly and plucked their various inflatable toys from his trunk before sprinting toward the riverbank. Only Miko lagged behind to eye him warily and say, "I've got my eye on you, buddy. Don't even think of trying anything."

Drift didn't answer to her threat, which would have been amusing if she didn't have both Bulkhead and Wheeljack at her proverbial beck and call. She didn't seem to have expected him to respond and followed her friends into the water.

Drift transformed then and moved to stand on the river bank to the left of where the children were playing, where the water became rougher and he could easily spring into action if the need arose.

Miko did keep looking his way for about ten minutes, and each time he had not moved an inch. Soon she became absorbed in the game her friends were playing and forgot all about him, as he knew she would. As soon as her attention was directed elsewhere he sat down and crossed his legs, resting one of his two smaller swords across his lap. Drift allowed the sounds of the children's happy shrieks to wash over him, accented by the rumbling storm clouds miles away. The sky was still blue but he would need to take them back home before it began raining.

If he concentrated, Drift could remember what the multitudinous drops felt like bouncing off his mesh all those years ago.

"_Rain?"_

_The boy nodded, sticking his hand out in front of him. "Yes. Like the water that came down from the sky during the storm yesterday." He retracted his wet hand with a small frown. "But the rain was worse then."_

"_Oh," the Cybertronian said, but remained safely seated beneath the wooden porch roof. _

"_What's wrong with rain, friend?" the boy asked, wiping his hand dry on his trouser leg. _

"_Nothing, Benji-kun. The rain here is…favorable. Back home our rain was very dangerous. It burned us whenever it fell."_

_The boy's eyes widened in horror. "You mean the rain in Heaven was _cursed_?"_

"_Not Heaven, Benji," the alien corrected. "Another world."_

_Benji nodded grudgingly. "Yes, I remember. You come from beyond the stars." He looked up cheerfully at the overcast sky. "Well _our_ rain comes from Heaven! Father says the gods deliver it, and we get storms when they're mad."_

_The Cybertronian knew from observation that rain formed when condensed from water vapor in the atmosphere and then precipitated, but he also knew that Benji wouldn't understand or listen to his explanation. And so he only nodded in response to the boy's claim. _

"_It won't hurt you," Benji said suddenly, and the Cybertronian glanced down at the human beside him. _

"_I know that," he replied. If the rain was indeed harmful Benji and all other organics surely would've been affected. But centuries of instinct didn't just go away at the insistence of a little human boy. _

_Benji gave him a sidelong glance. "You were just out in the rain last night. It didn't bother you then."_

"_I was keeping the village safe from flooding," the Cybertronian answered, "I did not pay attention to it then."_

"_Then don't pay attention to it now," Benji urged. He stood up and climbed onto the leg of what he and his family still believed to be a _tengu_, gripped the massive spirit's wrist and began tugging it away from the protection of the porch. He resisted gently at first, but the boy's determined expression made him relent until Benji stood on his knee and out in the rain. _

"_You see!" the boy beamed, his wet hair slowly falling into his eyes. "It's safe! You're alright."_

_The Cybertronian flexed his servo experimentally, watching as rain pattered against his palm. "I suppose so," he admitted, and plucked the boy out of the rain before he could be soaked through. As he set Benji back down beside him, the boy couldn't stop grinning even as he was forced to shove wet hair out of his eyes. After some hesitation the Cybertronian returned the gesture with a small smile of his own. _

"_Benjirou!" a woman called from within the house. "Benjirou!" A moment passed before Benji's mother slid the door open and looked outside. "_Benjirou_!" she chastised as soon as she spotted him. "What are you doing outside, you'll catch cold!"_

_Benji grimaced. "I'm alright, Mother."_

"_Not another word!" she snapped. "Dry yourself inside and go to bed. You've bothered our friend long enough."_

_The boy sighed but did as his mother said. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said to his friend as he disappeared through the open doorway. _

"_He was no bother, Fugiye-san," said the Cybertronian, inclining his head, "but I should retire as well. Good night to you and your family."_

_Fugiye bowed as the enormous _yōkai _stood and began walking toward the back of the house through the rain. _

"-you okay? Drift? Can you hear me?"

Drift shuttered his optics, but showed no other sign of surprise. He looked to the concerned boy floating in the water.

"Yes, Rafael? Is something the matter?"

"You were kind of staring off into space for a while," Rafael explained, consternation coloring his expression. "Are you okay?"

Drift noticed that the boy's concern for him had grabbed the attention of a few of the other children, namely Miko who returned to watching him out of the corner of her eye. He looked back at the brunette below him.

"I'm perfectly fine, Rafael. But you ought to return to your game, the storm will soon arrive and we'll have to leave before then."

"O-okay," Rafael said uncertainly, but did as he was told and swam back over to his friends. He looked back at the silent swordsman on the riverbank once more before rejoining their game.

* * *

"Does anyone have any idea of when the bots are coming back?" Miko asked no one in particular as she entered the firehouse dining room, towel drying her hair. Her friends, new and old, were scattered around the room as the rain came down in sheets outside.

Raf and Frankie were watching television on low volume at the dining table, Jack stood over by the couch on his phone, hopefully with the Autobots on the other line, while Cody was hunched over the ComTab on the other side of the table, issuing information to his family through his comm link.

Frankie and Raf looked at her and shrugged, Cody didn't seem to hear her, but Jack finished his call and snapped his cell phone shut.

"Was that the 'Bots?" Miko demanded, nearly pouncing on the teenager.

More than accustomed to Miko and her inability to sit still, Jack didn't react as he answered. "It was Arcee. She said they're not coming back tonight. Fowler got an abandoned plane hangar for them to stay the night but their training's supposed to go on until after tomorrow." He thought of finishing the rest of his partner's message in private, when the younger children wouldn't hear, but decided that they deserved to know. "She said that they're gonna be doing these training exercises frequently. Optimus wants them ready for whatever's coming up."

It was certain that Cody caught the end of Jack's explanation by the way his eyes widened in the light of the ComTab, worry for his four best friends overshadowing anything else. Frankie noticed Cody's distraught expression and her mouth curved into a comforting smile, one which he shakily returned.

Miko's attention had not strayed from Jack. "_So_ what does that mean for us? The 'Bots are out, minus Ratchet, who we won't see for another week if he has his way, and Ironhide, who's babysitting the Dinobots."

Cody looked up from the ComTab. "My family's going to be busy tonight too. The storm's coming down hard but it's not as bad as it could be. They'll probably be out all night."

Miko turned her body to face Jack expectantly, hope and excitement bundled together in her honey colored eyes. Jack sighed and relented. "My mom won't be back until late, either. The hospital staff is small and there are already people hurt from the storm."

No longer able to contain herself, Miko crowed, "Then we've got the place to ourselves!"

Thunder rumbled ominously from outside, seconds after a bright flash of lightning illuminated the area. Frankie shuddered. "Are you sure that's such a good thing?"

"Oh _come on_, Frankie!" Miko chastised lightly, slinging an arm around the smaller girl's shoulders. "Think of it as an adventure! We've got a storm outside, plenty of junk food that Kade hid from Jack's uptight mom-"

"_Hey_!"

"-_and_ a highly trained Autobot protecting us," Cody added with confident finality. Miko scowled.

"Why do you guys trust him so much?" she asked them sharply, stepping away from the table. "Bulk told me stories about what he did. _He_ doesn't trust Drift."

Jack decided to interrupt. "Yeah, but Bulkhead doesn't really trust _anyone_. Anyone besides the original team, that is."

"And maybe we should hear Drift's side," Rafael said, speaking up for the first time. When everyone looked his way he shrugged innocently. "It wouldn't hurt. And it might even clear things up with the other 'Bots. Did you notice that aside from Optimus, Wheeljack, and Ratchet most of the 'Bots won't even _talk_ to him. Maybe if we asked him he would tell us-"

"What tell us his life story, Raf?" Miko cut him off. "Optimus doesn't even trust him enough to let him go on their training mission."

"Actually," Jack piped up. "Arcee said that he's already _really_ well-trained. Like, he almost took off her _head_ because she wasn't on her guard."

Not wanting to be left out, Frankie said, "And he was really polite to me yesterday, Miko. Acted a little weird, but he was nice. Maybe….maybe we should give him a chance?"

"Where _is_ he anyway?" Rafael suddenly asked. "I just realized that he didn't follow us into the garage."

Blank looks went all around before Cody summoned them from the other side of the room, no one having noticed that he'd moved.

"I found him," Cody said solemnly, kneeling against the back of the couch with his ComTab still in hand.

The group joined him swiftly, crowding around Cody. Not even Miko needed to ask where the ninja-bot was as they all spotted him through the window almost immediately.

Drift stood like a ghostly sentinel outside the expansive garage doors, one the two swords he kept at his waist planted firmly in the concrete before him. He didn't move an inch despite the torrents of rain and fierce winds that bent the tops of pine trees just beyond the firehouse.

"How long has he been out there?" Frankie queried softly.

"Probably since we got back," Jack answered grimly. That had been over an hour ago.

The five children were silent for a time, until one by one they looked at the indecisive Asian girl. With a sigh that made it seem like a bigger deal than it actually was, Miko acquiesced.

"Fine. We'll go talk to him."

* * *

Drift found himself enjoying the sounds of the storm raging around him.

Since coming to Earth, the changing weather had fascinated him to no end. On Cybertron it was unchangeable, though he could hardly a recall a time when ash didn't fall from the sky and blaster fire had not permeated the air. All they had was the dreaded acid rain, falling without warning and burning through the armor any Cybertronian unfortunate enough to be outside. But on Earth the weather, while largely detrimental to its populous in the forms of tornados, hurricanes, earthquakes, and the like, was enchanting to his optics. Nature worked seamlessly to form quiet, picturesque snowfalls and at the same time released its unrelenting might with a blizzard or flood. It was as devastating as it was awe inspiring.

During the time nearly half a year ago when the Earth's weather system completed an utter 180 and made it snow in Hawaii and created tornados in Japan, Drift came to realize once more why the humans feared the true power their planet's ever-changing moods held over them. True, he'd recently learned that it was all Unicron's doing, but the principle remained.

Lightning cracked the sky, illuminating his figure in stark shadows and shapes before being replaced by thunder mere seconds after. The storm was nearly on top of them, Drift concluded. He expected the firehouse to be equipped to handle such tempests, and so guarding the children was one of the few tasks that remained for him.

Drift contacted Nurse Darby when it became evident that the storm would be getting worse before it subsided. If the winds had not abated by the time her shift at the hospital concluded she was to call him and he would be there to retrieve her.

He considered informing the children of this, specifically the nurse's sparkling Jack, but thought better of it. They didn't seem to like him very much and he wouldn't wish to make them uncomfortable by his presence or interruption.

And thus without anything to occupy his processors, he allowed his CPU to wander, as it often did during a storm.

* * *

"_Do all starships look like this?"_

"_Some," the Cybertronian answered absently. _

"_Can you make it fly, like you said?"_

"_Perhaps."_

"_What are these containers? They look like the ones in the shed."_

_Surprisingly, he did not find the organic's presence a nuisance, as he was certain others of his kind would. His endless questions concerning the alien were endearing, and he truly enjoyed answering. He'd never been around sparklings before, not even on Cybertron, where most were killed alongside their Caretakers before they stopped being made altogether. _

_He answered Benjirou's question from beneath one of the command consoles of his ship. _

"_Those are energon canisters, Benji-kun. They are…what keep me online. Alive, I mean." The endearments and honorifics the humans of this island gave to each other were something else the Cybertronian was quick to copy. Mimicking their language had certainly been simple as well. _

"_Oh," Benjirou murmured from atop the console. His attention meandered, examining his new friend's ship in awe, surrounded by objects and glowing lights that made little sense to him, and wondered why he refuted their claims that he was one of the gods. He gasped when laying eyes on the Cybertronian's command chair, which he had yet to notice. _

_Scrambling down onto the massive chair, Benjirou saw that was only a head shorter than the massive circle jutting out from the counter before him, reminding him of a ship's wheel. He could just barely grab the base of it with his small hands. _

"_Is this how you steer your starship?" he asked eagerly, and his friend's legs, the only part of his visible beneath the strange blinking counter, shifted slightly. _

"_If you're referring to the steering module, then yes. But my ship's engines were damaged extensively in the crash, and will not-"_

_As soon as his friend's explanation grew too complicated, Benjirou looked back up the wheel and was instantly entranced by two glowing sigils, one scarlet like his mother's favorite dress and the other a deep blue he had only before seen in the ocean. Jumping to reach, he slapped his palm against the ocean blue sigil._

_There was a sound like thunder and the ship lurched backwards violently, sending his friend crashing into the containers of "energon" as Benjirou fell against the back of the chair. _

_The Cybertronian was on his pedes not even five nanokliks after the engines powered down, rushing over to the command chair with an urgency that surprised him. His human friend leaned against the back of the chair, clearly dazed, but alive. _

_His systems released a vent in combined relief and exasperation, carefully picking up the boy. _

"_What were you _doing_, Benjirou?" he inquired even as he scanned the human for injuries. "Humans are not as durable as Cybertronians, you must know that." He pulled the boy away from his faceplate. "How do you feel?"_

_Benjirou looked down at his body as if he was almost wondering that himself. "I feel fine. My head hurts a little, but that's all." His head darted back up, worry in his big brown eyes. "I didn't break your starship, did I?"_

_The Cybertronian shook his head with a small, patient smile. "No, Benji-kun, my ship is alright." _

_The boy looked relieved. "Oh, good. Mother would've punished me for sure if I broke it."_

_He chuckled, setting the boy down on the floor. "Do not worry. My ship was already broken." He glanced around the cabin once before training his optics on the human again. "I believe I have done enough work for today. I should return you to your home."_

_Benjirou groaned but complied. However, they had hardly taken a single step outside when the boy asked to be carried again. The Cybertronian chuckled but consented, and Benjirou rested happily in his palm in no time. _

"_You have two fine legs to walk on, Benji-kun," he said as they began the long walk down the mountain. "Why ask me to carry you?"_

_Benjirou craned his head back to look his friend in the optics. "You said that your people last longer than humans, right?"_

_The Cybertronian shuttered his optics but nodded. "That is correct. Cybertronians can live for hundreds, even millions of years if no one kills us or we run out of energon." _

_Benjirou nodded firmly, cementing the determination of his next statement. "Then I'm going to live as long as you do, my friend." At the Cybertronian's stunned look, he elaborated with a smile. "So you won't be alone for so long."_

Drift nearly shuddered when the memory receded, brought out of his reverie by the sound of one of the garage doors opening.

Looking over his shoulder panels, Drift was surprised to find Rafael, clad in a neon yellow rain jacket, walking out into the downpour.

"Is something wrong, Rafael?" he inquired, concern budding behind his furrowed optical ridges.

The young human wrung his hands in the rain, seemingly unsure of himself as he glanced down at his shoes. When he spoke it was with a surprising clarity.

"No, there's nothing wrong. I was…we were just wondering if you'd like to come inside."

Drift actually shuttered his optics in astonishment at the boy's statement. He didn't comment that it was likely a select few who allowed his presence within the firehouse, with the rest obstinately against it. Not wishing to cause the boy or the others grief, he bowed sincerely.

"Thank you for the offer, Rafael, but I believe it would be better if I stayed out here. I know that I'm not exactly welcome, and that is fine. You should go back inside before you come down with a cold."

Rafael looked stunned by the refusal for many kliks, and he blinked several times behind his rain-speckled glasses.

"No!" he said with sudden vehemence. "It's not like that! We all want to trust you, really, but…" he pushed his sliding glasses back up the bridge of his nose. He continued in a much softer voice. "We actually wanted you to come inside so you could explain... w-what happened to you that made you turn into an Autobot, I mean."

"Really?" Drift asked after a long pause. Something in his expression must have bolstered the boy for he smiled wide.

"Like I said, we want to trust you."

Drift's facial components began to slowly mimic Rafael's expression. "You just need a reason to," he finished for him.

* * *

___Yōkai_ - "ghost, phantom, strange apparition". Kind of supernatural monsters in Japanese folklore.

_tengu_- "heavenly dog". A type of _y____ōkai_ that Buddhism long held to be disruptive demons/harbingers of war. Their image softened into one of protective, if still dangerous, spirits of the mountains and forests.

source: wikipedia


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